Digitized  by 

the  Internet , 

Archive 

in  2013 

http://archive.org/details/historyofchurchi21hage 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH 

IN  THE 

Eighteenth  and  Nineteenth  Centuries. 


By  K.  K.  HAGENBACH,  D.D., 

PROFJS8SOR   OF   THEOLOGY   IN    THE   UNIVERSITY    OF  BASLE. 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  LAST  GERMAN  EDITION,  WITH 
ADDITIONS, 

By  Rev.  JOHN  F.  HURST,  D.D. 


VOLUME  II. 


JTew  yoF^K  : 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER  &  CO.,  654  BROADWAY. 

1869. 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR, 

HISTORY  OF  RATIONALISM, 

EMBRACING  A  SURVEY  OF  THE  PRESENT  STATE  OF 
PROTESTANT  THEOLOGY. 

WITH    APPENDIX    OF  LITERATURE. 
ONE  VOLUME.    8vo.    $3  50. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1869,  by 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER  &  CO., 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


;  -  RjßjL 

CONTENTS 

OF  THE  SECOND  VOLUME. 


LECTURE  I. 

Introduction. — Plan. — Herder's  Youth  down  to  his  Appoint- 
ment in  Bückeburg   1  —  16 

LECTURE  IL 

Goethe  on  Herder.  —  Herder's  Official  Labors  in  Bückeburg. — 
Countess  Maria. — Herder's  Literary  Labors.  —  Call  to  Weimar. 
—  Literary  Climax.  —  Journey  to  Italy. — His  Later  Life. — 
His  Characteristics.  —  His  Versatility  and  Vivacity.  —  Humanity 
and  its  Relation  to  Christianity  and  Protestantism  17  —  37 


LECTURE  III. 

Herder  as  a  Theologian. — His  Human  Method  of  Contemplating 
the  Divine.  —  Poetic  Observation  of  the  World.  —  Scene  in  a 
Journey.  —  Herder's  Christianity. — His  Theological  Convic- 
tions and  Character.  —  His  Opinions  on  Theology  and  the 
Ministerial  Office.  —  Herder  as  a  Preacher. — His  View  of 
Hymns,  and  his  own  Gifts  as  Religious  Poet  38  —  59 


LECTURE  IV. 

Herder's  Position  toward  Protestantism.  —  His  Conservative 
Tendency. — Strict  Views  on  Church  Discipline  and  the  Free- 
dom of  the  Press.  —  His  Position  toward  Philosophy.  —  Im- 
manuel Kant  and  the  "Critique  of  Pure  Reason."  —  The 
Relation  of  this  Philosophy  to  Christianity.  —  Rapid  Increase 
of  Kantianism  60  —  78 


LECTURE  V. 


Herder's  Position  toward  Kant's  Philosophy. — Rationalism  and 
Supernaturalism.  —  Franz  Volkmar  Reinhard  and  bis  Confessions. 


79—101 


iv 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  II. 


LECTURE  VI. 

Reinhard's  Style  of  Preaching.  —  Niemeyer,  Tzschirner,  Amnion. 
—  Influence  of  Later  Literature  on  Religion  and  Theology. — 
Schiller,  and  his  Relation  to  Christianity  102—123 

LECTURE  TO. 
Schiller  in  Relation  to  Christianity,  continued.  —  His  Position 
toward  Protestantism.  —  Influence  of  the  Theater  on  the  Relig- 
ious Development  of  the  People,  and  the  Reaction  of  the 
Theater  on  the  Church. — Approval  of  Schiller  in  the  Sermons 
of  his  Times. —  Sentimentality. — Rationalism  in  the  Garb  of 
Poetry:  Tiedge's  Urania,  and  Witschel's  Morning  and  Evening 


Offering  124— 1-44 

LECTURE  VIII. 
Reform  of  the  Educational  System.  — Herder's  Views  on  Basedow. 

—  His  Own  Educational  Principles.  —  School  Addresses. — 
Salzmann.  —  Campe.  —  Pestalozzi,  and  his  Relation  to  Chris- 
tianity 145—163 

LECTURE  IX. 

Influence  of  Pestalozzianism  on  Religious  Thought.  —  The  Task 
of  the  Church  in  Relation  to  the  Great  Changes  of  the  Times. 

—  Hamann  and  Claudius  as  Spirited  Defenders  of  the  Old 
Orthodoxy.  —  Hamann:   Scenes  from  his  Life,  and  Extracts 

from  his  Works  164—183 

LECTURE  X. 

Claudius,  the  Wandsbeck  Messenger. — John  Frederick  Kleuker. 

—  Further  Development  of  Philosophy  after  Kant. — John 
Gottlieb  Fichte,  down  to  his  Entrance  upon  his  Professorship 

in  Jena.   184—202 

LECTURE  XL 

Fichte's  Idealism. —  Charges  of  Atheism. — Fichte  in  Berlin. — 
Return  to  the  Religious  Standpoint. —  "Advice  for  the  Blessed 
Life."— Fichte's  Last  Days  and  Death   203—224 

LECTURE  XII. 

Schölling  and  his  Natural  Philosophy.  —  Pantheism  and  Pseudo- 
Orthodoxy. —  F.  H.  Jacobi,  and  the  Religion  of  the  Spirit  in 
Opposition  to  Orthodoxy  and  Speculation   225 — 245 


LECTURE  XIII. 
Corresponding  Tendencies  in  the  Department  of  Belles-Lettres. 
—  Jean  Paul  and  Hebel.  —  Relation  of  Jacobi's  Poetry  to  his 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  II. 


V 


Philosophy  of  Feeling.  —  Goethe  and  the  Romanticists  in  Con- 
nection with  Schelling. —  Comparison  between  Schiller  and 
Goethe  in  Relation  to  their  Position  toward  Christianity. — 
Goethe's  Influence  on  the  Most  Recent  Period   246 — 271 

LECTURE  XIV. 
Goethe's  Attitude  toward  Protestantism.  —  The  Romanticists. — 
Their  Relation  to  Pantheism,  Lud  Partial  Inclination  to  Ca- 
tholicism.—Novalis. —La  Motte  Fouque*   272—291 

LECTURE  XV. 

The  Apostates  Winckelmann  and  Stolberg.  —  Stolberg's  Relation 
to  Lavater,  the  Princess  of  Galitzin,  and  Jacobi. — TheCrypto- 
Catholic  Stark.— Frederick  Schlegel   292—315 

LECTURE  XVI. 
Zechariah    Werner.  —  Adam    Müller    and    Haller.  —  Frederick 
Hurter. — The  New  Flight  of  Protestantism  through  Schleier- 
macher.— His  Monologues  and  Discourses  on  Religion.    .    .  316 — 335 


LECTURE  XVII. 
The  New  Protestant  Theology:  Schleiermacher  and  De  Wette. 

—  Their  Connection  with  Modern  History  in  General,  particu- 
larly that  of  Germany. — The  Centennial  Celebration  of  the 
Reformation.  —  Harms,  and  the  Controversy  on  his  Theses. — 
The  Union.  —  The  Controversy  on  the  Liturgy,  and  Schleier- 
mach er's  Share  in  it.  —  The  Lutheran  Reaction.  —  Steffens. — 
Schleiermacher's  System  of  Doctrine.  —  Parallel  between  Her- 
der and  Schleiermacher   336 — 360 

LECTURE  XVIII. 
The  Hegelian  Philosophy:  Its  Right  and  Left  Sides.  —  Strauss. — 
Feuerbach  and  Bruno  Bauer.  —  Other  Philosophical  Tendencies. 

—  The  Philosophy  of  the  Personal  God.  —  Modern  Science  in 
General,  and  the  Theology  of  the  Present  Time.  —  The  Practical 
Christianity  of  our  Day.  —  Modern  Pietism.  —  The  Power  of 

Faith  and  Love.  — Pastor  Oberlin   361—384 

LECTURE  XIX. 
Protestantism   Outside   of   Germany:    In   Holland,  Denmark, 
Sweden,  Norway. — England:  Methodism  and  its  Perversions. 

—  The  Jumpers,  Shakers,  Southcottians,  and  other  Sects. — 
Irving  and  the  Irvingites.  —  The  Anglican  Church.  —  The 
Bishopric  of  Jerusalem.  —  Puseyism.  —  France:  Guizot  and 
Coquerel. —  The  Genevan  Church.— The  Momiers.  —  German 


vi 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  IL 


Switzerland:  Zürich,  Schaffhausen,  Berne,  Basle. — The  Hours 
of  Devotion,  and  Madame  Krudener.  —  Swiss  Sectarianism.  — 
The  Wildenspuchers,  Antonians,  and  New  Baptists. — The 
Quarrels  about  Strauss.  —  General  Retrospect. —  Prospect.  .    .  385 — 423 

LECTURE  XX. 

Brief  Survey  of  the  History  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church, 
with  Special  Regard  to  the  Protestantism  arising  within  it 
since  the  Beginning  of  the  Eighteenth  Century.  —  Pasquier 
Quesnel,  and  the  Controversy  on  the  Constitution.  —  The 
Appellants  and  Convulsionists.  —  The  Jesuits  in  Paraguay. — 
Abrogation  of  the  Order.  —  Ganganelli.  —  Liberal  Tendencies 
in  Germany.  —  Justin  Febronius.  —  The  Associations  of  the 
Illuminated  and  Mystics.  —  Gassner.  —  Joseph  II.  and  his 
Reforms.  —  The  Stipulation  at  Ems. — Scipio  Ricci. — The 
French  Revolu'ion.  —  The  Theophilanthropists.  —  Bonaparte 
and  the  Concordat.  —  St.  Martin  and  Chateaubriand. — Napoleon's 
Conduct  toward  Pius  VII. — New  Concordat.  —  The  Restoration. 
— The  Restoration  of  the  Jesuits.  —  The  July  Days. — 
Lamennais.  —  German  Catholicism  and  its  Various  Represen- 
tatives: Sailer,  Wessenberg  (and  the  Catholic  Relations  of 
Switzerland),  Hermes,  Möhler  and  Görres. — The  Controversy 
on  the  Arch-Episcopacy  of  Cologne. — Most  Recent  Relation 
of  Catholicism  to  Protestantism. — Prospect. —  Conclusion..    .  424 — 455 


Most  Recent  History  and  Present  State  of  the  Church  in  Europe. 

By  the  Translator..    456—479 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


LECTURE  L 

INTRODUCTION.  —  PLAN.  —  HERDER1  S  YOUTH  DOWN  TO  HIS  AP- 
POINTMENT IN  BÜCKEBURG. 

We  have  traced  the  history  of  evangelical  Protestantism 
beyond  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century;  then  parted 
with  Lavater;  and  at  the  conclusion  once  more  directed  at- 
tention to  Herder.  We  have  thus  introduced  the  period 
which,  as  the  latest  and  newest,  now  remains  to  be  con- 
sidered. But,  as  every  one  may  see,  these  two  names  are 
not  sufficient  for  our  purpose.  Yet  we  may  set  these  illus- 
trious men, — Lavater  and  Herder, — as  boundaries,  as  statues 
at  the  entrance  of  the  garden  through  which  we  are  about 
to  wander.  But  it  is  not  a  garden  after  the  old  French  style 
of  Louis  XIV.;  still  less  is  it  the  venerable  grove  which,  by 
the  aid  of  its  luxuriant  growth  of  lofty  elms  and  beeches, 
throws  its  shade  upon  the  monuments  of  the  period  of  the 
Reformation.  It  is  rather  a  garden  whose  vines  are  more 
intertwined,  and  is  laid  out  in  the  modern,  artistic  manner, 
—  a  garden,  indeed,  in  which  many  have  lost  their  way. 
What  was  formerly  dark  and  overgrown  with  bushes  we  now 
find  open  to  the  light;  what  was  once  firm  has  been  broken 
up ;  and  what  seemed  inaccessible  has  been  made  level.  Nev- 
ertheless, there  are  many  heights  which  have  been  reduced 
Vol.  II.  i 


2 


IIISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


to  a  plane  in  the  wrong  place;  many  of  the  earlier  pleasure- 
grounds  have  been  wantonly  destroyed;  many  a  fruitful  tree 
has  been  felled;  and  many  a  harmless  minstrel  of  the  forest 
has  been  scared  up  and  driven  away.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  are  many  beautiful  plants  which  emit  their  fragrance 
from  new  flower-beds,  beautiful  forms  that  disclose  their  love- 
liness to  our  vision,  and  magnificent  landscapes  that  open  to 
us  beauties  hitherto  unknown. 

However,  all  this  has  not  been  brought  to  pass  by  the 
careful  hand  of  an  industrious  gardener,  or  under  the  eye  of 
a  human,  calculating  architect,  who  was  conscious  of  his 
aim  from  the  outset.  Vehement  storms,  quite  beyond  human 
control,  have  broken  through  the  badly-kept  enclosure,  and 
have  borne  off  what  had  been  well  nurtured.  Volcanoes  have 
sent  forth  their  long-restrained  fires,  and  the  lava-stream  has 
flowed  over  many  a  happy  field.  But  there  have  come  into 
play  those  healing  forces  which  are  as  little  within  the  grasp 
of  human  power  as  the  destructive  ones.  Bright,  fruitful 
sunbeams  have  announced  the  dawn  of  a  new  age,  and  a 
Higher  Voice  than  that  of  man  has  called  out  of  the  chaos 
new  creations,  whose  germ  could  scarcely  have  been  imagined 
in  the  preceding  centuries. 

We  enter  upon  the  time  of  revolutions.  But  we  have  not 
merely  in  mind  the  French  political  revolution,  which  consti- 
tutes the  crisis  of  later  history,  as  the  ecclesiastical  Reformation 
in  Germany  was  the  turning  point  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
But  we  have  more  particular  reference  to  all  those  revolutions 
which  occurred  simultaneously,  and  yet  not  accidentally,  in 
multiplied  forms  in  the  departments  of  philosophy,  literature, 
education,  religion,  church  and  theology, — phenomena  which 
have  taken  a  deep  hold  upon  the  history  of  Protestantism, 
or  rather  constitute  this  history  itself.  And  since  we  did  not, 
in  our  earlier  lectures,  restrict  ourselves  to  the  church  and 
religion  in  the  narrower  sense  of  those  terms,  but  treated  of 
literature,  education,  universal  humanity,  and  civil  and  social 
phases,  this  enlargement  is  now  doubly  necessary,  if  we  would 
have  a  living  picture  of  the  Protestantism  of  the  eighteenth 
century.     Whoever  would  comprehend  the  church  of  the 


NECESSITY  OF  A  BROAD  VIEW  OF  LATER  HISTORY.  3 

eighteenth  century  in  connection  with  that  of  the  nineteenth, 
must  not  regard  it  as  shut  in  by  stakes  and  walls  that  forbid 
Iiis  outward  look;  nor  should  he  be  blocked  up  by  erecting 
such  an  enclosure  himself.  For  then  he  would  only  meet 
with  the  somber  ruins  of  fallen  walls,  or  walk  through  a 
graveyard  full  of  decay  and  dead  men's  bones,  where  he  sees 
here  and  there  a  cross  peering  above  the  weeds,  and  a  tomb- 
stone with  an  effaced  inscription.  He  must  take  a  much  broader 
view.  Far  out  beyond  the  fallen  walls  and  ruins  and  dead 
men's  bones,  which  lie  scattered  around  in  such  profusion  as 
to  cause  him  frequent  sighs,  he  must  look  with  prophetic 
feeling  at  those  temples  where  only  the  spirit  of  the  age 
seems  to  operate,  and  which  at  first  sight  appear  more 
heathen  than  Christian,  and  remind  us  more  forcibly  of  the 
cheerful  Grecian  mind  than  of  the  Gothic  forms  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  He  must  also  listen  to  those  voices  which  do  not 
speak  in  pulpit-tones, — the  voices  of  poets  and  philosophers, 
and  of  the  improvers  and  illuminists  of  the  world,  in  both  a 
good  and  bad  sense.  Even  the  theater,  otherwise  far  sundered 
from  the  church,  now  acquires  great  importance  because  of 
its  influence  upon  the  culture  of  the  times.  He  must  also 
walk  through  those  places  which,  though  they  may  not  be 
so  unlike  the  churchyard,  yet  help  to  form  the  great,  broad 
court  where  God  intended  his  church  should  stand  in  a  bolder 
and  freer  style.  Whoever  would  comprehend  the  religion  and 
theology  of  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries  must  also 
thoroughly  understand  the  philosophy  of  this  period,  together 
with  its  conflicts,  at  least  to  such  an  extent  as  to  form  a 
clear  conception  of  the  most  important  theological  questions. 
And  he  who  would  know  how  the  divine  has  been  conceived 
and  appreciated  by  the  human,  must  learn,  first  of  all,  the 
human  element  itself,  and  how  it  has  expressed  itself  in  art, 
customs,  and  language,  and  even  in  pleasures  and  social  forms; 
and  how,  by  its  system  of  popular  authorship,  it  has  pushed 
its  way  toward  the  education  of  youth  and  the  improvement 
of  the  masses. 

The  church  was  the  organ  of  spiritual  life  in  the  centuries 
before  and  after  the  Reformation, — the  sixteenth,  seventeenth. 


4 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


and  a  part  of  the  former  half  of  the  eighteenth;  so  that  the 
literature,  art  and  customs  of  the  nation  must  be  considered, 
even  from  an  ecclesiastical  and  theological  standpoint,  as 
largely  the  product  of  ecclesiastical  life.  The  temporal  and 
spiritual  separated  themselves  from  each  other,  and  each 
pursued  its  own  way  undisturbed,  as  if  the  one  were  no  ad- 
vantage to  the  other.  But  their  relation  now  underwent  a 
most  important  change,  which  was  of  advantage  to  the  tem- 
poral. This  having  come  to  pass,  if  the  church  and  theology 
do  not  desire  to  be  pushed  aside  as  antiquated,  they  must 
consent  to  undergo  a  new  intellectual  development  independ- 
ently of  the  church,  by  means  of  a  process  of  culture  and 
humanity,  so  that  they  can  again  establish  themselves  upon 
one  and  the  same  old  basis.  But  we  do  not  mean  that  the 
religion  and  church  of  the  later  period  were  a  mere  product 
of  recent  culture, — a  child  of  yesterday, — or  that  they  must 
needs  expect  their  regeneration  from  the  stage,  or  the  pro- 
fessor's chair,  or  poetry,  or  any  system  of  philosophy. 

No,  the  church  of  Christ  is  the  same  to-day  that  it  has  been 
ever  since  the  days  of  its  organization,  and  dates  its  charter 
from  a  far  earlier  century  than  the  eighteenth,  or  any  other 
century, — for  we  count  our  centuries  from  the  very  time  of 
its  beginning.  Protestantism,  too,  as  it  is  now  and  is  yet 
to  become,  has  long  had  its  eye  turned  with  fidelity  toward 
the  day  of  its  rise;  nor  has  it  yet  torn  itself  from  the  roots 
of  its  strength  and  existence.  The  names  of  Luther,  Zwingli, 
Calvin,  and  Oecolampadius  have  to  it  the  same  pleasant 
sound  to-day  as  during  the  heat  of  the  first  conflict.  But 
the  church,  and  especially  the  Protestant  church  in  its  present 
form  and  appointed  method,  and  in  its  relations  to  the  state 
and  human  institutions,  has  certainly  acquired  an  appearance 
essentially  different  from  what  it  possessed  at  that  time. 
Or,  rather,  it  must  assume  still  another  form  if  it  would 
command  the  respect  of  coming  generations;  yet  not  by  any 
external  power,  which  it  would  find  difficult  to  exercise,  but 
by  its  real,  spiritual  superiority. 

Evangelical,  Protestant  theology  is  not  based  upon  this  or 
that  system  of  human  philosophy,  but  upon  the  Divine  Word 


CHRISTIANITY  COMPATIBLE  WITH  MODERN  CULTURE.  5 

as  laid  down  and  contained  once  for  all  in  the  Holy  Script- 
ures. But  even  this  has  its  human  side,  its  scientific  form, 
its  literary  expression,  and  its  fixed  circle  of  ideas.  What 
seemed  all-important  at  one  time  recedes  at  another;  the 
expression  that  was  true  in  connection  with  other  tendencies, 
is  no  more  understood  by  another  generation,  which  has 
grown  up  amid  other  circumstances.  Indeed,  it  is  held  to 
be  error  if  the  understanding  of  it,  and  its  accommodation 
to  the  new  times,  do  not  occur  at  the  same  time.  And  thus 
even  religion  undergoes  a  certain  change  with  the  general 
use  of  language.  Idea  and  expression  change ;  demonstration 
becomes  different  as  soon  as  doubt  acquires  another  form. 
Defensive  weapons  are  shaped  after  offensive  ones,  and  the 
position  of  the  combatants  may  become  such  that  a  practiced 
eye  can  distinguish  friend  from  foe  at  the  first  glance,  and  ex- 
plain the  numbers  and  positions  of  each  army.  But  only  he  can 
have  this  broad,  commanding  view  who  is  conversant  with 
the  scene  of  battle  and  all  the  surrounding  territory.  We 
can  therefore  place  confidence  in  him  alone  who  is  acquainted 
with  the  religious  conflicts  of  the  times,  and  also  the  ground 
where  they  occurred.  Hence,  we  see  the  necessity  of  in- 
cluding the  history  of  the  later  philosophy  and  literature, 
of  the  new  system  of  education,  and  of  modern  art  and 
customs,  in  the  history  of  the  religious  thinking  of  the 
century. 

But  there  is  another  requisite  for  the  execution  of  this  task. 
Just  in  our  day  it  has  been  openly  said  that  Christianity 
and  modern  culture  can  no  longer  proceed  in  company;  that 
the  latter  has  outlived  the  former;  that  the  Reformation  has 
turned  into  revolution;  that  new  Protestantism  has  borne  the 
old  to  the  grave;  in  fine,  that  a  new  day  has  dawned,  before 
whose  light  all  those  phantoms  that  flitted  out  from  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  made  the  Reformers  tremble,  are  doomed 
to  disappear  forever.  Thus  many  are  talking;  but  we  may 
ask,  in  reply  to  them,  whether  these  old  phantoms  would 
not  be  supplanted  by  a  new  and  horrible  ghost  which  will 
call  itself  the  real  spirit  from  a  mere  feeling  of  exclusive 
pride,  and  thus  bring  to  mind  Lichtenberg^  old  prophecy: 


6 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


"Our  times  are  destined  to  come  to  such  a  state  of  advance- 
ment that  it  will  be  as  ridiculous  to  believe  in  a  God  as  it 
now  is  to  believe  in  ghosts;  and  then  the  age  will  progress 
to  the  highest  point  of  refinement.  Having  reached  the  pin- 
nacle, the  opinion  of  the  wise  will  once  more  undergo  a 
change,  and  knowledge  will  pass  through  its  last  transforma- 
tion. Then  will  come  the  end,  when  we  will  believe  in  ghosts 
alone;  we  shall  become  as  God,  knowing  that  all  material 
being  not  only  is,  but  can  be,  nothing  else  than  a  ghost. 
Then,  for  the  first  time,  will  the  sweat  of  seriousness  be 
dried  upon  every  forehead,  and  the  tears  of  earnest  antici- 
pation will  be  washed  away  for  all  time.  Then  there  will  be 
loud  laughing  among  men ;  for  reason  will  have  perfected  its 
work,  humanity  will  have  reached  its  goal,  and  a  crown  will 
adorn  every  brow."  An  uncomfortable  prophecy,  and  yet  it 
does  not  seem  very  far  from  its  fulfillment. 

Now  if  it  were  really  true  that,  as  those  persons  maintain, 
modern  culture  and  Christianity  do  not  aid  each  other,  they 
who  look  upon  Christianity  in  a  serious  light  would  be  right 
in  rejecting  this  culture, — philosophy  and  criticism,  art 
and  intellectual  life, — as  their  sworn  foe,  and  return  to  the 
old  faith  of  their  fathers  and  the  contracted  forms  of  an- 
cestral customs.  But  they  would  be  really  justifiable  in  adopt- 
ing this  course  only  after  taking  a  critical  view  of  what  is 
understood  by  modern  culture.  Yet  we  do  not  reproach  him 
who  is  afraid  of  this  impartial  criticism,  and  withdraws  to 
his  indestructible  faith.  Still,  we  do  not  envy  him.  Exami- 
nation is  not  every  man's  business,  and  is  not  necessary  for 
the  happiness  of  the  individual.  Therefore,  some  had  better 
let  it  alone.  But  these  persons  are  not  justly  entitled  to  a 
voice  in  condemning  this  culture  and  its  relation  to  Christian- 
ity. He  can  only  say:  "It  does  not  suit  me;  it  might  en- 
danger my  Christianity;  I  don't  like  it."  Since  there  are 
others  who  appreciate  its  power,  he  dare  not  condemn  it  with- 
out acting  blindly  and  unfeelingly,  and,  with  all  his  Chris- 
tianity, becoming  unchristian  himself.  What  is  indigestible 
and  injurious  to  one  may  thus  be  a  necessity,  and  the  very 
condition  of  growth  and  success,  to  another. 


ANTAGONISMS  IN  THE  PROTESTANT  CHURCH.  7 

As  I  attempt  the  consideration  of  this  last  stage,  I  am 
doubly  conscious  of  the  difficulty  of  my  undertaking.  The 
more  numerous  the  efforts  of  the  times  to  lead  it  upon  the 
field  of  intellectual  inquiry,  and  to  clearness  and  strength  of 
religious  and  ecclesiastical  consciousness,  the  more  pains  we 
shall  have  to  take  within  the  intellectual  sphere  if  we  would 
keep  pace  with  the  hastening  age,  follow  the  stream  of  thought, 
and  derive  a  definite  impression,  and  retain  it  firmly  in  the 
memory  and  heart,  from  these  many  and  very  varied  forms. 
There  are  few,  if  any,  events  for  us  to  record  at  present.  Our 
business  is  with  inner  causes,  whose  conditions  we  must 
elaborate.  We  leave  behind  us  the  outward  history  of  Prot- 
estantism, and  the  record  of  the  persecutions  and  oppres- 
sions of  our  brethren  of  the  faith  in  different  countries. 
Having  brought  it  down  to  the  present  period,  nothing  more 
is  to  be  said  on  it.  Everything  is  now  concentrated  in  those 
inner  conflicts  on  a  few  important  ideas, — the  very  life- 
questions  of  these  later  times. 

But  these  secret  struggles  are  quite  different  from  those 
of  the  preceding  times.  We  find  fewer  great,  living,  and 
complete  aspects  than  in  the  period  of  the  Keformation,  when 
the  antagonisms  lay  clear  and  open,  when  men  had  to 
answer  "yes"  or  "no",  and  when  a  mighty  faith  could  re- 
move mountains  at  the  decisive  moment.  But  since  this  faith 
has  gone  astray,  both  in  itself  and  its  ultimate  grounds,  we 
must  consider  faith,  the  grounds  of  faith,  the  sources  of  relig- 
ious knowledge,  the  nature  of  religion  and  revelation,  and 
the  capacity  of  the  human  mind  to  perceive  the  divine.  The 
antagonism  between  Protestantism  and  Catholicism,  which 
we  must  always  keep  in  view,  disappears  for  a  while  before 
these  other  antagonisms  which  are  manifested  in  magnified 
complications  in  the  Protestant  church.  We  shall  often  find 
ourselves  drawn  by  a  variety  of  definitions  upon  a  slippery 
surface.  We  shall  have  to  place  ourselves  in  a  method  of 
thought,  language,  and  opinion  which  is  not  equally  easy  to 
every  one  among  us.  But  while  I  shall  strive  to  avoid  every- 
thing beyond  the  sphere  of  the  common  understanding,  to 
keep  in  the  distance  every  thing  that  belongs  exclusively 


8 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


to  the  schools  and  to  speculation  proper,  and  endeavor  to 
give  prominence  to  practical  and  religious  interests,  I  shall 
yet  not  be  able  to  avoid  what  may  be  dry  and  abstract,  and  to 
portray  the  chief  philosophical  tendencies  of  the  times  both 
in  their  outline  and  results.  But  I  do  it  with  hesitation, 
and  a  distrust  of  my  own  skill;  for  it  is  always  difficult  to 
make  plain  to  the  common  apprehension  of  men  that  whose 
nature  is  purely  scientific,  and  presupposes  manifold  previous 
definitions,  and  studies  more  or  less  learned.  However,  I  shall 
not  avoid  my  task.  The  circle  of  knowledge  which  a  truly 
cultivated  man  of  our  times  should  know,  or  at  least  manifest 
an  interest  in,  has  greatly  widened  within  a  few  years.  What 
once  seemed  to  engage  the  attention  of  professional  theo- 
logians and  philosophers  is  now  discussed  and  examined  by 
large  social  circles,  and  not  merely  as  a  subject  of  curiosity, 
but  as  an  important  question  of  the  times,  and  a  matter  of 
vast  concern  to  the  inward  man.  And  though  our  salvation 
does  not  exactly  depend  upon  these  discussions,  yet  that 
which  is  the  condition  of  our  salvation, — the  inner  quiet  and 
contentment  of  the  mind, — can  be  enjoyed  by  us  in  a  large 
measure  when,  through  our  own  endeavors,  we  gain  complete 
possession  of  what  wealth  we  have  long  been  accustomed  to 
consider  was  either  totally  concealed  or  the  treasure  of  an- 
other. 

But  there  is  another  view  that  enhances  the  difficulty  of 
my  enterprise.  The  nearer  we  approach  the  present  the  more 
are  we  drawn  into  the  conflicts,  through  our  own  peculiar  think- 
ing, our  sympathies,  and  our  antipathies.  Hence  the  greater 
danger  of  becoming  a  partisan.  We  cannot  avoid  pursuing  one 
or  the  other  phase  with  a  decided  preference,  believing  one 
of  them  to  be  the  true  and  successful  one,  while  our  less 
favorable  opinion  of  another  may  be  owing  to  a  defective 
knowledge  of  it.  Here  is  the  barrier  which  opposes  the  most 
honest  efforts,  and  which  the  individual  man  finds  it  impos- 
sible to  surmount.  And  here  lies  the  great  advantage  of 
joint  effort, — when  we  labor  alone  we  are  unsuccessful,  but 
when  in  common  we  come  out  victorious.  But  the  aim  of 
my  lectures  is  not  so  much  to  press  upon  others  my  own 


INNER  HISTORICAL  DEVELOPMENT  OF  PROTESTANTISM.  9 

convictions  as  to  open  up  to  your  view  a  varied  picture  and 
many  points  of  observation,  by  means  of  which  each  one  can 
form  his  own  opinion,  and  where  each  can  pursue  his  line 
of  thought  farther,  and  approach  the  goal  nearer,  and  per- 
haps more  happily,  than  I  am  able  to  do.  And  if,  during 
this  course  of  lectures,  I  should  find  myself  manifesting  a 
sympathy  with  characters  and  opinions  which  are  not  at  all 
my  favorites,  I  shall  not  have  failed  altogether  in  my  de- 
sign. I  shall  also  be  grateful  for  every  reminder  which  will 
cause  me  to  reinvestigate  my  theme,  and  will  push  me  out 
from  personal  preferences  to  a  more  comprehensive  view. 
It  is  by  a  multiplicity  of  standpoints  where  we  strive  for  the 
truth  that  we  are  enabled  to  attain  the  all-important  one, 
taking  it  for  granted  that  these  standpoints  can  all  be  found 
within  the  circle  of  a  plain  comprehension  of  religious  truth. 
In  this  way  my  lectures  can  become  suggestive,  instructive, 
and  purifying  to  our  sense  of  truth,  —  to  the  hearer  as  well 
as  to  myself. 

The  inner  historical  development  of  Protestantism  in  the 
closing  decades  of  the  eighteenth  and  the  first  of  the  nine- 
teenth centuries,  lies  before  us  as  the  principal  object  of  our 
attention.  But  just  here  we  must  ask,  which  shall  we  begin 
with?  We  have  already  said,  that  the  church  and  history  of 
the  recent  period,  and  especially  the  history  of  Protestant- 
ism, can  only  be  comprehended  by  the  aid  of  the  contem- 
poraneous history  of  philosophy,  literature  and  education. 
The  plainest  method,  accordingly,  will  be  to  begin  with  the 
last-named,  and  then  trace  out  religion  and  the  church  in  a 
strictly  historical  sense.  But  I  fear  that  such  a  separation  of 
materials  is  not  in  place  just  here ;  yet,  since  I  have  pursued 
a  freer  course  in  my  former  lectures,  and  relieved  myself 
as  far  as  possible  from  everything  unnecessary,  paying  more 
particular  attention  to  important  events  and  remarkable  per- 
sons, so  must  I  adopt  the  same  plan  here. 

We  left  off  with  Herder.  But  Herder  was  a  man  of  such 
universal  intellect  that  he  belongs  alike  to  the  history  of 
philosophy,  literature,  religion,  the  church,  education,  and 
learned  theology.    For  his  complete  works  bear  the  titles: 


10 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


On  Religion  and  Theology;  On  Philosophy  and  History;  and 
On  Polite  Literature  and  Art.  Let  us  therefore  place  his  pict- 
ure in  the  foreground,  and  direct  our  eye  toward  the  meander- 
ing paths  of  the  tangled  garden  of  which  we  spoke.  We 
shall  easily  find  the  way  from  Herder  as  a  starting-point 
into  the  history  of  philosophy, — to  Kant,  Jacobi,  Fichte, 
Schelling,  and  those  later  ones  who  did  not  stand  in  such 
intimate  personal  relations  to  him.  Then  we  shall  be  led  by 
him  to  his  older  and  younger  friends  and  contemporaries,  to 
Hamann,  Claudius,  Schiller,  Goethe,  Jean  Paul,  and  all  the 
writers  who  marked  out  a  new  life  in  that  day,  and  who, 
in  the  great  march  of  moral  and  intellectual  culture,  chose 
the  path  of  literature  and  poetry.  We  have  in  Herder  at 
once  a  man  of  the  church,  a  preacher,  a  theologian,  and  an 
educator;  and  therefore,  in  connection  with  his  history,  we 
shall  be  able  to  examine  those  conflicting  theological  tenden- 
cies between  which  Herder  was  temporarily  the  mediator. 
The  universal  and  the  particular  interest  of  our  lectures, — 
literature  and  theology, — concentrate  and  cross  each  other  in 
Herder,  and  thus  bring  us  into  a  much  nearer  acquaintance 
with  the  man.  But  there  is  no  person  in  whom  all  things 
center;  nor  can  everything  be  compressed  into  a  single  por- 
traiture of  a  human  life.  We  shall  be  compelled  to  intro- 
duce at  times  foreign  figures  and  groups.  Yet  we  will  make 
a  beginning  with  this  important  character,  without  any  further 
frame- work  around  our  edifice. 

John  Gottfried  Herder,  the  son  of  a  poor  chorister  and 
teacher  of  girls,  was  born  at  Mohrungen,  East  Prussia,  on 
the  25th  of  August,  1744.  His  father  is  represented  as  a 
strictly  moral  man,  conscientious  and  prompt  in  the  discharge 
of  all  his  duties,  benevolent  through  life,  and  of  few  words.  But 
Herder  seems  to  have  inherited  more  of  his  mother's  than 
his  father's  nature.  There  was  something  tender  and  sym- 
pathetic in  his  mother,  which,  together  with  her  quick  power 
of  comprehension  and  her  facility  for  calm,  noiseless  work, 
passed  over  into  the  son.  She  was  a  zealous  Christian.  Her 
spiritual  guide,  Pastor  Trescho,  testifies  that  she  had  very 
sound  views  of  religious  truth,  yet  without  making  much 


herder's  early  life. 


11 


pretension,  and  that  she  was  one  of  the  most  attentive  and 
deeply  affected  of  all  his  hearers.  The  old  spirit  of  domestic 
devotion  and  pious  customs,  just  as  we  have  found  in  the 
former  times,  reigned  supreme  in  the  family  of  the  Herders. 
The  day  that  had  been  spent  in  industry  was  every  evening 
closed  with  the  singing  of  a  hymn,  which  made  a  deep  and 
permanent  impression  upon  Herder's  mind.  He  often  thought 
of  it  in  later  years  with  emotion  and  longing,  and  would  go 
to  his  piano,  and,  in  the  stillness  of  the  night,  play  pathetic 
tunes,  accompanying  them  with  singing  again  some  of  those 
old  chorals.  Such  books  as  ArndtTs  True  Christianity  formed 
a  prominent  part  of  the  little  family  library,  and  there  is  said 
to  be  still  in  existence  a  leaf  of  this  book  on  which  the  father 
wrote  the  names  and  birth-days  of  the  children,  with  wishes 
for  blessings  attached.  Young  Herder's  first  instruction  at 
school,  the  method  for  which  was  by  no  means  the  best  and 
easiest,  was  extremely  strict;  yet  he  learned  rapidly.  Such 
a  boy  as  he  must  soon  outstrip  his  schoolmates,  whatever 
the  method  might  be. 

His  peculiar  taste  manifested  itself  very  early.  Music  and 
singing  were  his  favorite  pastime  even  in  early  youth.  The 
ancient  languages  and  history  enchanted  him,  and  the  wings 
of  poetry  unfolded  themselves  in  a  marvelous  manner. 
Since  his  poetic  sentiment  was  first  excited  by  the  classics, 
the  Bible,  and  hymns,  it  was  but  natural  that  his  first  attempts 
at-  versification  should  partake  of  this  lofty  ideal  nature.  His 
reserved  and  taciturn  disposition  made  it  difficult  to  the  men 
in  charge  of  his  education  to  arrive  at  any  clear  idea  of  his 
future  destination;  and,  as  has  been  the  case  with  many 
distinguished  theologians,  even  with  Luther  and  Calvin,  that 
they  entered  npon  a  different  course  before  adopting  theol- 
ogy, so  do  we  find  the  same  feature  in  Herder's  life.  After 
spending  considerable  time  under  the  pious  but  hypochon- 
driacal and  moody  theologian  Trescho,  thus  sighing  away  much 
of  his  youth,  and  spending  many  nocturnal  hours  over  his 
books,  he  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  a  surgeon  to  a  regi- 
ment, who  took  him  from  the  endeared  house  of  his  parents 
(whom  he  never  saw  again),  to  Königsberg,  where  he  com- 

Vol.  II.— 2 


12 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


menced  the  study  of  surgery.1  But  the  fact  that  the  sensitive 
youth  fell  into  a  swoon  during  the  performance  of  the  first 
operation  was  enough  to  decide  his  unfitness  for  that  profession. 
He  was  as  poorly  adapted  for  a  surgeon  as  he  had  been  for 
soldiership,  toward  which  he  had  still  earlier  betrayed  such 
a  decided  aversion. 

He  now  turned  his  attention  to  the  peaceful  study  of  theol- 
ogy, philosophy,  history,  languages,  and  belles-lettres.  But 
in  changing  his  studies  he  became  greatly  embarrassed,  for 
he  was  at  once  deprived  of  the  friendly  aid  of  the  surgeon. 
His  stay  in  Königsberg,  whose  magnificent  style  of  architecture 
charmed  him,  was  now,  with  all  its  grandeur,  a  school  of 
severe  discipline  for  him.  His  deep  and  rich  impressions 
from  the  outward  world  contrasted  glaringly  with  his  poverty, 
dire  necessity,  natural  reticence,  and  bashfulness.  Now  thrown 
upon  his  own  resources,  and  with  only  a  few  noble  friends 
to  assist  him,  his  lofty  genius,  though  hemmed  in  and  pressed 
down  on  every  side,  was  left  to  pursue  its  own  course.  The 
conflict  led  to  victory ;  and  after  he  had  taken  the  first  rough 
steps,  and  entered  the  first  dark  openings,  his  approach  to 
the  temple  of  fame  became  more  rapid  and  joyous. 

Kant  and  Hamann,  men  of  very  diverse  character,  were 
the  great  intellects  that  shone  preeminently  in  the  High 
School  of  Königsberg.  Lilienthal,  the  defender  of  the  good 
cause  of  revelation,  was  teacher  of  theology.  Herder  always 
spoke  of  this  worthy  theologian,  as  he  did  of  Kant,  in  terms 
of  the  greatest  respect,  although  he  was  no  friend  to  the 
philosophy  of  the  latter,  as  we  shall  hereafter  see.  His  out- 
ward condition  gradually  improved  so  much  that  he  was  ap- 
pointed a  gymnasial  teacher  in  the  Frederick  College  of 
Königsberg.  Herder  was  an  earnest  teacher,  and  deeply  in- 
terested in  the  progress  of  his  classes.  But  he  was  very 
strict  toward  himself,  and  it  was  by  this  attention  that  his 
new  position  not  only  brought  him  external  but  inward  victory. 
"It  is  to  my  own  teaching,"  said  he,  "that  I  am  indebted 

1  Sebastian  Frederick  Tresclio,  born  at  Liebstadt,  Prussia,  in  1733, 
afterwards  deacon  in  Mohrungen.  He  is  the  author  of  the  Sterbebibel, 
and  other  devotional  books  highly  prized  by  many  Christians. 


HERDERS  RELATIONS  WITH  HAMANN. 


13 


for  the  development  of  many  of  my  ideas  and  their  clear 
precision;  let  whoever  would  arrive  at  these  in  any  depart- 
ment, go  to  teaching."  Years  afterward,  when  his  circum- 
stances were  changed,  and  he  was  no  longer  a  teacher  of 
science,  he  often  wished  for  the  privilege  of  teaching  a  few 
years  in  some  university,  in  order  to  be  more  fully  committed 
to  his  ideas  and  principles,  and  to  utter  them  in  a  more 
earnest  style.  This  necessity  of  communicating  information 
was  a  part  of  Herder's  mental  constitution.  His  nature  was 
electrical,  easily  finding  a  spark  and  speedily  scintillating 
it  forth  again.  Thus  ripened  the  fervid  intellect  of  this  other- 
wise timid  young  man,  until  it  arrived  to  manly  clearness 
and  strength.  The  native  shyness  of  his  character  decreased, 
and  he  who  "was  once  afraid  to  look  upon  any  man,  could 
now  gaze  steadily  into  the  face  of  noblemen  and  kings."1 

Of  all  his  friends  in  Königsberg,  J.  G.  Hamann  occupied 
the  first  place.  Herder's  wife  says,  that  "in  Hamann  he 
found  just  what  he  sought  and  was  needing,  —  a  sympa- 
thetic, loving,  and  wann  heart  for  every  thing  good  and 
great;  an  intellectual  religiousness;  the  strongest  moral  prin- 
ciples; and  a  consecrated  genius  possessing  real  soul  and  spirit. 
Thus  he  pressed  his  Hamann  to  his  heart,  and  the  two  united 
their  tenderest  sympathies  for  time  and  eternity."2  Hamann 
was  "a  good  handful  of  years"  older  than  he  was,  as  Herder 
himself  says.  He  exerted  great  influence  upon  the  latter's 
career,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  Herder  afterwards  made 
him  known  to  the  literary  world  as  the  Magus  of  the  North. 
But  although  Hamann  was  older,  wre  shall  hereafter  return 
to  the  consideration  of  his  original  and  mysterious  nature, 
when  we  study  him  in  another  connection.  Herder's  outward 
relation  to  his  friends  underwent  a  change  when  he  was  ap- 
pointed assistant  teacher  in  the  Grammar  School  at  Riga,  in 
the  autumn  of  1764.   He  was  twenty  years  old  when  he  as- 

1  Thus  his  teacher,  Trescho,  wrote  concerning  hiin  in  1764,  when  he 
made  Herder  a  visit  to  Königsberg.  See  Herder's  Biographie,  by  his 
wife,  in  his  Sämmtüche  Werke,  zur  Philosophie  und  Geschichte,  Vol.  XVI. 
Part  I.  p.  54. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  63. 


14 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


sumed  the  position.  He  had  hitherto  worn  smooth  hair,  but 
now  he  must  conform  to  the  rigid  school-customs  of  that 
period  by  procuring  a  wig,  which  gave  the  young  man  an 
older  and  more  clerical  appearance.  But  the  wig  could  ac- 
complish far  less  than  the  character  of  the  young  man,  who 
not  only  knew  how  to  win  the  necessary  respect  of  his  pupils, 
but  also  to  gain  their  confidence  and  love  to  a  high  degree. 
"His  mode  of  teaching,"  said  one  of  his  pupils  afterward, 
"was  so  excellent,  and  his  intercourse  with  his  scholars  so 
kindly,  that  the  instructions  of  no  one  were  more  gladly 
attended  than  his."1 

Herder  met  with  a  fine  circle  of  old  and  new  friends  at 
Riga,  and  his  own  free  and  restless  mind  knew  well  how  to 
adapt  itself  to  the  remaining  fragments  of  the  old  Hanseatic 
customs  and  constitution.  His  views  of  life  enlarged,  and 
those  opinions  on  civil  freedom  and  prosperity  which  he  had 
long  entertained  in  private  now  matured  into  living  matter- 
of-fact  forms.  His  temporal  prosperity  constantly  improved. 
His  student-friend  of  Königsberg,  Hartknoch,  the  publisher, 
issued  his  works,  which  were  now  fast  winning  their  way  to 
fame.  His  Fragments  on  German  Literature,  and  his  Critical 
Fields,  had,  by  their  boldness,  gained  him  many  new  friends 
among  the  learned,  though  they  had  stirred  up  others  to  envy 
and  opposition.  In  order  to  escape  the  vexatious  annoyances 
attendant  upon  literary  controversies,  Herder  resolved  to  make 
a  tour  into  foreign  lands.  He  was  assisted  by  his  friends. 
Having  secured  his  discharge  from  his  engagements,  he  went 
through  Nantes  to  Paris,  at  that  time  the  seat  of  the  En- 
cyclopaedist philosophy,  and  the  starting-point  of  the  deistical 
movement,  which  had  gradually  extended  all  over  Germany. 
He  became  acquainted  with  a  number  of  the  Encyclopaedist 
standard-bearers;  and  while  he  manifested  no  favor  toward 
their  system,  he  spoke  respectfully  of  its  champions.  For, 
while  he  sought  the  acquaintance  of  these  men,  he  knew  how 
to  draw  the  line  of  demarcation  between  them  and  their  o- 

1  See  Herder's  B  log  rankle  by  his  wife,  in  the  Sämmtllche  Werke,  zur 
Phil,  und  Gesch.,  Vol.  XVI.    Part.  I.  p.  87. 


ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  GOETHE  AND  JUNG- STILLING.  15 

pinions.  Though  his  own  character  was  thoroughly  German, 
he  knew  how  to  appreciate  the  good  qualities  of  other  nations 
without  overvaluing  and  slavishly  imitating  them.  It  was 
from  this  standpoint  that  he  criticized  French  poetry.  After 
a  tour  through  Holland  and  the  Netherlands  he  returned 
to  Germany  by  way  of  Hamburg,  where  he  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Lessing,  Claudius,  Bode,  Reimarus,  and  Pastor 
Goetze.  It  was  from  this  varied  circle  of  intellects  that  Claudius, 
the  Wandsbeck  Messenger,  entered  into  terms  of  greatest  in- 
timacy with  Herder,  in  much  the  same  way  that  Hamann  had 
done, — an  intimacy  which  took  deeper  root  with  the  flight 
of  years. 

Having  received  an  invitation  at  Paris  from  the  Prince  of 
Holstein- Oldenburg  to  accompany  him  on  his  travels,  he  set 
out  for  the  court  at  Eutin,  where  he  was  wTell  received,  and 
where  he  preached  a  few  times  in  the  court-church.  The 
tour  with  the  prince  led  him  through  Darmstadt,  where  he 
became  acquainted  with  his  subsequent  wife,  a  Miss  Flachs- 
land. She  says  of  him:  "He  preached  in  the  court-church. 
I  heard  the  voice  of  an  angel,  and  soul-words  which  I  had 
never  heard  before.  I  have  no  language  to  describe  this 
peculiar  and  great  impression.  A  heavenly  messenger  in  hu- 
man form  stood  before  me.  I  saw  him  that  afternoon,  and 
stammered  my  thanks  to  him.  From  that  time  our  two 
souls  were  one,  and  still  are  one.  Our  union  was  the  work 
of  God."  He  remained  in  Strasburg  some  time,  wiiere  he 
had  his  diseased  eye  operated  upon,  for  he  was  much  troubled 
with  a  weeping  fistula.  There  he  became  acquainted  with 
Goethe  and  Jung-Stilling.  Both  of  these  men  state  the 
impression  made  upon  them,  each  in  his  own  language. 
Goethe  wras  an  eye-witness  of  the  fortitude  and  patience  dis- 
played by  him  during  the  painful  but  fruitless  surgical  oper- 
ation. It  was  even  at  this  early  period  that  Goethe  was 
repelled  from  him  by  the  morose  side  of  Herder's  character, 
and  the  fact  caused  a  distance  at  once  between  them.1  But 

1  See  Aus  meinem  Leben.  Goethe's  Werke.  Stuttgart.  1829.  Vol.  XXV. 
p.  296  ff. 


16 


IIISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Jung-Stilling,  on  the  contrary,  was  very  much  attracted  to 
Herder;  and  the  latter  soon  grew  much  more  attached  to 
him  than  to  Goethe.  "Never,"  said  Jung-Stilling,  when 
speaking  of  himself,  "have  I  admired  a  person  more  than 
this  man."  And  he  confesses  that  he  received  from  him  an 
impulse  toward  an  "eternal  progress."  "Herder  has  one 
thought,  and  that  is  the  whole  world."1 


1  Stilling's  Wanderschaft,  p.  137  ff. 


LECTURE  IL 


GOETHE  ON  HERDER.  —  HERDER' S  OFFICIAL  LABORS  IN  BÜCK- 
EBURG.—  COUNTESS  MARIA. — HERDER'S  LITERARY  LABORS. 
—  CALL  TO  WEIMAR. — LITERARY  CLIMAX.  —  JOURNEY  TO 
ITALY.  —  HIS  LATER  LIFE. — HIS  CHARACTERISTICS. — HIS 
VERSATILITY  AND  VIVACITY.  —  HUMANITY  AND  ITS  RELA- 
TION TO  CHRISTIANITY  AND  PROTESTANTISM. 

We  closed  our  last  lecture  with  Jung-Stilling's  confession, 
that  he  had  received  from  Herder  "  an  impulse  toward  eternal 
progress," —  words  in  which  we  have  the  confession  of  not  only 
one  individual,  but  of  many,  indeed,  of  whole  generations. 
Many  a  one  who  has  ascended  to  the  higher  walks  of  life 
can  say  just  what  Jung-Stilling  did.  And  have  not  even  our 
times  received  from  him  this  general  impulse  toward  an  in- 
finite and  earnest  progress?  But  when  Stilling  extolled  his 
power  over  him,  Herder  had  not  yet  entered  upon  public  life. 
He  was  still  in  his  youthful,  plastic  state,  and  full  of  his  ideas 
and  plans.  "What  emotion  there  was  in  such  a  spirit,  what 
power  of  achievement  in  such  an  intellect,"  says  Goethe,  on 
his  first  acquaintance  with  him,  "can  neither  be  imagined 
nor  described.  But  we  can  easily  conceive  of  his  secret 
determination  when  we  reflect  upon  his  great  works  after  the 
lapse  of  many  years."  This  testimony  is  less  suspicious, 
because  the  repelling  pole  of  Herder  seems  to  have  exerted 
more  influence  upon  Goethe's  person  than  the  attractive  one. 
Following  Goethe's  portrait  further,  we  learn  that  "his  con- 
duct was  tender,  becoming,  respectful,  and  natural.  He  had  a 
round  face,  a  prominent  forehead,  a  flattish  nose,  and  a  mouth 
upwardly  inclined,  but  in  the  highest  sense  individual,  pleasant, 


IS 


HISTORY  OF  THE  .  CHURCn. 


and  indicative  of  amiability.  His  coal-black  eyes,  peering  from 
beneath  his  black  eyebrows,  were  not  without  effect,  though 
one  was  usually  red  and  inflamed."    Thus  far  with  Goethe. 

We  will  now  consider  Herder  as  the  full-grown  man,  and  fol- 
low him  in  his  official  and  public  labors  in  church  and  school. 
It  must  be  painful  for  great  minds,  who  feel  that  they  have 
the  power  of  genius  within  them,  to  find  themselves  suddenly 
reduced  from  the  free  course  of  their  developing  intellect  to 
the  contracted  bounds  of  a  petty  sphere  of  civil  activity.  And 
yet  fidelity  to  one's  calling,  the  working  of  a  great  mind  in 
apparently  small  relations,  is  the  test  of  real  greatness. 

Herder  had  received  a  complimentary  call  as  Consistorial 
Councilor  and  Superintendent  at  Bückeburg,  the  little  residence 
of  the  Count  of  Schaumburg-Lippe.  He  accepted  it  cordially,  be- 
cause his  relations  with  the  Prince  of  Holstein  began  to  be  un- 
pleasant to  him.  In  May,  1771,  he  entered  upon  his  new  posi- 
tion. The  count,  a  man  of  culture,  favorable  to  the  new  illumi- 
nism,  and  of  noble  parts,  hoped  to  find  in  Herder  as  intellectual 
and  social  a  friend  as  he  had  met  with  in  Thomas  Abbt,  the 
author  of  the  work  on  Merit.  The  count  had  the  low  estimate 
of  the  office  of  the  ministry  common  in  that  day,  and  it  was  his 
opinion  that  Herder  should  live  solely  for  him,  and  that  pastoral 
matters  should  be  merely  secondary.  But  Herder  would  not 
do  this,  for  he  did  not  regard  the  Christian  minister  as  a 
sinecure.  And  after  he  had  so  decidedly  expressed  himself  in 
his  Provincial  Letters  against  the  view  that  the  position  "  as 
tutor  and  carver  at  his  majesty's  table"  was  regarded  the  best 
highway  to  spiritual  offices,  he  would  not  degrade  himself  into 
an  ecclesiastical  table-companion  and  literary  carver.  This  pro- 
duced many  a  difference  between  him  and  the  count.  But,  in 
like  measure,  the  countess  became  devotedly  attached  to  her 
"teacher,"  as  she  was  in  the  habit  of  reverently  calling  him. 

This  excellent  lady,  Maria,  whose  native  title  was  Countess 
of  Lippe  and  Sternberg,  seemed  to  Herder  "  as  an  angel  sent 
down  from  heaven."1  Having  lost  her  mother  on  the  very 
day  of  her  birth,  she  received  her  first  training  in  her  father's 

1  Biographie,  p.  187.  Comp,  the  Grabrede,  Werke  zur  Phil,  und  TJieol, 
Part  II.  p.  401. 


herder's  influence  as  a  teacher.  10 

house,  in  company  with  her  twin-brother,  whom  she  called 
her  Jonathan.  She  was  subsequently  placed  in  the  care  of 
an  elder  sister  in  Silesia,  and  under  the  influence  of  the 
Moravians.  From  this  latter  source  it  is  very  likely  that 
she  combined  a  certain  anxiety  and  painfullness  of  mind  with 
her  inner  and  deep  religious  life.  But  Herder  freed  her  from 
it;  and  he  did  it  gradually,  not  by  any  premature  clearing 
up  of  difficulty,  but  by  the  aid  of  his  frank,  transparent 
nature;  by  his  kindly  entrance  into  her  very  feelings;  by  his 
friendly  meeting  of  her  difficulties ;  by  his  progressive  instruc- 
tions; by  the  dignified  exercise  of  his  scientific  superiority; 
and  by  the  force  of  his  personally  convincing  nature.  The 
correspondence  of  the  countess  with  Herder  is  psychologically 
instructive  in  the  highest  degree.  As  the  sun  scatters  the 
clouds  that  obscure  a  beautiful  smiling  landscape,  so  do  we 
find  the  doubts  that  enveloped  this  refined  soul  first  scattered 
by  the  penetrating  beams  of  Herder's  clearness.  Henceforth, 
the  unveiled  picture  of  her  nature,  the  very  ideal  of  lovely 
womanhood,  stands  before  us  with  a  constant  increase  of 
friendliness,  confiding  love,  clearness,  and  security.  She  was 
disclosed  to  her  teacher  just  as  the  flower  is  to  the  sun, 
and  thereby  her  hidden  worth  greatly  gains  on  our  esteem. 
I  might  say,  that  Herder's  capacity  to  reform,  and  to  clear  up 
difficulties  without  working  injury;  of  pouring  light  into  the 
soul,  and,  instead  of  unsettling  it,  or  leading  it  astray,  of 
establishing  it  upon  the  strongest  basis,  was  indicated  in 
relation  to  the  Countess  Maria  just  as  it  would  have  been 
wherever  his  mind  might  employ  its  strength.  But  his  relations 
were  not  in  all  cases  equally  favorable.  Many  an  outward 
prejudice  opposed  his  influence,  and  inward  anxiety  often 
prevented  the  exercise  of  his  capacity, — a  difficulty  that  caused 
him  great  trouble.  "A  pastor  without  a  congregation;  a 
patron  of  schools  without  schools;  a  consistorial  councilor 
without  a  consistory;" — this  was  an  intolerable  thought  to 
Herder  during  the  first  year  of  his  official  career  in  Bücke- 
burg.1 He  thus  writes  to  the  future  companion  of  his  life: 
"  All  my  favorite  ideas  of  the  office  of  the  ministry  have  been 

1  Biographie,  p.  225. 


20 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


nullified  to  some  extent,  and  they  must  be  disappointed,  by 
my  isolation  in  this  place." 

According  to  the  functions  of  his  position,  Herder  was 
obliged  to  preach  to  the  congregation;  but  during  the  early 
part  of  his  ministrations  his  sermons  were  quite  too  deep 
and  philosophical  for  the  most  of  his  hearers.  But  he  gradually 
lowered  his  style  of  expression,  until  he  finally  gained  uni- 
versal applause.    Thus  it  happened  that  the  rustics  of  his 
little  Bückeburg  chapel  hung  upon  his  words  with  listless 
attention.    And  Herder  made  it  his  greatest  aim  to  alienate 
his  method  of  preaching  as  far  as  possible  from  the  technical 
and  obscure  style  of  the  schools.    "My  sermons,"  he  writes 
again  to  his  betrothed,  "are  as  little  clerical  as  my  person. 
They  are  the  human  experiences  of  a  full  heart;  they  are 
quite  removed  fx  om  homiletical  arts  and  constraints,  from  which 
I  am  altogether  spared  in  this  place."1   His  course  of  ser- 
mons on  the  Life  of  Jesus  produced  a  remarkable  impression 
on  his  congregation.   They  may  be  compared  to  seeds  scat- 
tered broadcast  over  the  land,  and  awaiting  the  blessings  of 
heaven  to  give  them  fruitfulness.   But  his  office  afforded  him 
ample  leisure  for  authorship.   Here  the  freshest,  most  exhil- 
arating, and  most  fervid  utterances  of  his  imagination  poured 
forth  from  his  pen.   He  wrote  the  Oldest  Records  of  the 
Human  Race  in  the  glow  of  his  feelings,  while  in  the  en- 
joyment of  the  morning  hours  of  the  longest  summer  days. 
"  These  were  days  peculiarly  happy  and  memorable,"  said 
his  subsequent  wife,  who  even  then  shared  his  intellectual 
pleasures.2   In  the  same  way  he  wrote  the  Provincial  Letters 
and  the  Philosophy  of  Human  History,  the  latter  of  which 
was  preliminary  to  his  later  ideas. 

An  attempt, — in  which  Heyne,  the  celebrated  philologist, 
was  especially  active, — to  attract  Herder  to  Göttingen,  as 
Fourth  Professsor  of  Theology  and  Chaplain  to  the  Univer- 
sity, failed,  after  much  negotiation,  because  he  finally  gave  a 
favorable  reply  to  Goethe's  question:  "Whether  you  will 
accept  the  position  of  General  Superintendent  at  Weimar?" 
But  there  were  serious  hindrances  at  the  outset  in  con- 

1  Biographie,  p.  218.  2  Idem,  p.  239. 


herder's  life  in  WuLMAR. 


21 


nection  with  this  position.  Herder's  orthodoxy  provoked  con- 
tempt ;  his  learning  was  depreciated ;  and  it  was  said  that  he 
could  not  preach.  The  matter  went  so  far  that  an  honorable 
councilman  of  Weimar  desired  that  he  would  preach  a  trial- 
sermon  before  him,  a  request  which  Herder  would  not  con- 
sent to  for  very  manifest  reasons.1  After  much  negotiation 
he  entered  upon  his  new  office;  but  it  was  after  he  had  deliv- 
ered the  funeral  oration  over  the  deceased  countess,  and 
thus  completed  and  sealed,  in  a  highly  significant  manner, 
his  influence  upon  her. 

By  his  removal  to  Weimar  he  found  himself  in  intimate 
relations  with  those  minds  who  were  at  that  time  giving  new 
life  to  Germany, — such  as  Wieland,  Schiller,  Goethe,  Jean 
Paul,  Knebel,  and  others.  As  he  had  formerly  gone  beyond 
theology  into  literature,  there  was  now  much  greater  danger 
that  he  would  be  completely  absorbed  in  general  literature. 
But  his  versatile  mind  here  displayed  its  real  power.  The 
poet  of  the  Cid,  the  author  of  various  aesthetic  and  philo- 
sophical treatises,  and  the  zealous  and  contemplative  collector 
of  the  popular  songs  of  all  nations,  found  time  and  strength 
enough  to  enrich  his  theological  knowledge  with  new  and 
living  ideas  without  neglecting  his  official  duties,  or  in  any 
wise  lessening  his  activity  in  church  or  school.2 

1  According  to  his  Biography.  The  case  is  somewhat  differently 
stated  in  Peucer's  Mittheilungen  über  Herder's  Berufung  nach  Weimar 
{Herders  Album,  p.  49  ff.).  According  to  this  work,  the  trial-sermon 
was  desired,  in  conformity  with  the  custom  of  the  consistory,  but  Herder 
was  excused  by  a  ducal  rescript. 

2  How  very  earnestly  and  seriously  Herder  viewed  the  minister's 
work  may  be  seen  from  his  instailation-sermon  (see  Herder  s  Album, 
p.  67  ff.).  He  thus  said:  "It  seems  to  me  that  Luther's  spirit  is  in 
my  presence,  and  says  to  me,  'Look  at  what  I,  and  those  whose  bones 
rest  here  in  the  Palace  Church,  have  labored  to  effect;  and  how  diffi- 
cult it  was  for  us  to  place  the  light  of  the  gospel,  which  lay  sleeping  in 
the  ashes,  upon  its  candlestick!  You  are  taking  your  place  as  an 
instructor  just  where  there  is  everything  to  remind  you  what  doctrines 
you  must  preach;  what  word,  and  with  what  power  you  have  to  enforce 
it;  and  in  what  time  you  have  to  labor.  You  are  to  be  a  carer  for 
souls  in  a  period  where  there  is  grave  questioning  as  to  whether  or  not 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  religion,  or  any  thought  or  care  should  be 


22 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


His  work  on  the  Spirit  of  Hebrew  Poetry,  and  his  Letters 
on  the  Study  of  Theology,  the  latter  of  which  has  brought  light 
and  guidance  to  so  many  young  men,  made  a  deep  impression 
upon  the  times,  and  scattered  seeds  far  out  upon  the  future. 
Fruit  came  even  from  Switzerland.  As  Lavater  had  made  a 
pilgrimage  to  Spalding  when  a  young  man,  so  did  J.  G.  Müller, 
the  brother  of  the  historian,  go  from  Göttingen  to  Weimar 
on  foot  just  to  see  Herder,  and  get  advice  from  him  con- 
cerning his  studies.  Herder  received  him  very  kindly,  and 
the  conversation  soon  turned  upon  theological  studies.  A 
cheerful  smile  lighted  up  Herder's  countenance.  He  arose, 
took  a  book  out  of  his  case,  and  handed  it  to  the  young  man. 
It  was  the  first  part  of  his  Letters  on  the  Study  of  Theology, 
received  but  an  hour  before  from  his  publisher.  How  it  must 
have  delighted  Herder  to  find  at  once  a  young  man  for  whom 
his  book  was  written,  and  who,  as  he  himself  informs  us,  re- 
ceived it  from  his  hands  with  hearty  thanks  and  an  earnest 
desire  to  study  its  contents.  From  this  hour  forth  a  perma- 
nent friendship  was  established  between  the  older  end  younger 

spent  upon  the  matter;  when  the  whole  stream  of  the  thinking  of  the 
times  is  opposed  to  it,  and  threatens  to  submerge  it  in  its  mad  waves. 
It  must  not  be  thought  that  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  anything  else 
besides  religion,  or  that  religion  is  such  an  individual  matter  that  the 
office  of  the  ministry  is  useless,  the  fragment  of  an  old  custom;  that  it 
exists  now  from  the  mere  force  of  prejudice;  and  that  it  is  so  onerous 
and  antiquated  that  it  should  not  be  discharged  in  our  times.  Now,  behold 
you  are  entering  upon  this  very  office!  Thy  soul  shall  stand  for  the 
place  of  other  souls.  He  whom  thou  shalt  be  instrumental  in  saviug, 
shall  dwell  in  eternal  mansions;  whoever  is  neglected  by  thee  shall 
sink  into  ruin,  and  shall  press  thee  to  eternal  destruction!'  It  seems  to 
me  these  are  Luther's  words,  or,  rather,  the  language  of  the  Lord  of 
all  lords,  the  King  of  all  kings,  the  Holy  One  and  Protector  of  all 
souls,  Jesus  Christ,  the  subject  of  all  true  preaching,  the  one  who  has 
said,  that,  where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together  in  his  name,  he 
would  be  in  the  midst  of  them,  and  who  points  to  his  words  and  church, 
and  says:  'I  have  redeemed  thee  with  my  own  blood.  Take  care  that 
thou  do  not  lose  any  over  whom  thou  art  placed  as  shepherd  and 
guardian,  whom  I  give  to  thee;  who  are  as  stars  in  my  hand,  and 
whose  names  are  written  in  my  heart  and  on  my  breast.  For  my  eyes 
flash,  and  my  blood  burns  even  in  the  lowest  depths.'" 


HERDERS  TROUBLES  IN  LATER  LIFE. 


23 


man, — between  the  Weimarian  and  the  gifted  theologian  from 
Schaffhausen. 

At  present  we  will  not  follow  Herder's  literary  labors 
further,  nor  his  relations  to  the  notabilities  of  Weimar,  but 
will  afterwards  return  to  them.  His  body  and  mind  were 
greatly  refreshed  by  a  journey  to  Italy,  a  country  which  he 
had  longed  even  in  his  early  youth  to  see.  His  taste  for 
art  and  antiquity  was  greatly  quickened  and  improved,  while 
the  nature  and  customs  of  the  country  found  in  him  a  very 
careful  observer.  While  in  Rome  he  received  another  call  from 
Güttingen.  He  was  much  inclined  to  accept  it,  and  the  voice 
of  his  own  genius  seemed  to  counsel  it;  but  yet  the  reigning 
duchess,  Amalie,  induced  him  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his 
life  in  Weimar.  Unfortunately,  the  latter  portion  of  his  career 
at  Weimar  was  disturbed  by  unpleasant  experiences  and  by 
sickness,  and  we  derive  a  truly  tragical  impression  from  his 
own  utterance  of  grief  and  bitterness  at  his  futile  plans:  "0 
my  misspent  life!"1 

The  external  honors  paid  him  when  he  was  offered  the  vice- 
presidency  and  subsequently  the  presidency  of  the  Consistory, 
1801,  were  but  a  small  counterpoise  to  his  regrets  concern- 
ing himself.  New  troubles  occurred,  from  which  he  found  the 
sweetest  relief  in  his  domestic  circle.  The  disease  of  his  eye 
increased  after  1801.  The  use  of  the  waters  at  Aix-la-Chapelle 
and  Eger  did  not  satisfy  his  expectations.  Three  weeks  spent 
in  Dresden  were  the  last  bright  sunbeams  of  his  life.  He  re- 
turned to  Weimar  in  September,  1803,  and  on  the  last  day 
of  that  month  he  conducted  a  discussion  on  the  doctrine 
of  angels  with  extraordinary  vivacity  of  mind,  but  soon  after- 
wards departed  into  the  unseen  future.   John  von  Müller 

1  There  was  personal  clashing  among  the  great  minds  surrounding  the 
"Weimar  court.  It  is  humiliating  to  see  what  a  contemptible,  wicked 
spirit  of  gossip  could  insinuate  itself  there,  and  embitter  the  life  of 
Herder,  just  as  if  he  had  been  malicious  toward  others.  Compare,  for 
example,  the  wicked  sketch  of  Herder's  matrimonial  life  in  Schiller  s  und 
Körner' s  Briefe,  Vol.  I.  p.  166.  Indeed,  it  very  much  diminishes  our 
respect  for  genius  when  we  see  so  much  natural  corruption  in  connec- 
tion with  all  this  exterior  culture,  and  in  spite  of  all  the  genial  in- 
fluences of  Christianity. 


24 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


wrote  thus  to  his  brother  concerning  Herder's  death:  "He 
spoke  as  if  from  another  world,  and  concerning  beings  to  whom 
he  felt  related."1  In  his  last  years  he  yearned  after  nothing 
more  earnestly  than  those  great,  lofty  thoughts  on  which  a 
man  of  his  nature  could  live.  Klopstock's  Odes,  Young's 
Night  Thoughts,  and  Miiller's  Relics,  were,  next  to  the  Bible, 
and  especially  the  Prophets,  his  last  spiritual  food.  He  died 
on  the  18th  of  December,  1803,  after  his  own  soul  had  risen 
high  above  all  human  littleness,  and  but  shortly  after  he 
had  been  elevated  to  the  order  of  the  nobility  by  the  Elector 
of  Bavaria.    Thus  much  for  his  material  life 

Turning  now  to  the  consideration  of  Herder's  mental  qual- 
ities, we  may  premise  with  a  word  of  Jean  Paul  concerning 
him:  "His  noble  intellect  has  been  acknowledged  by  men  of 
different  times  and  of  various  parties,  though  faults  have  also 
been  attributed  to  him.  For  he  had  the  misfortune  not  to 
have  been  a  star  of  either  the  first  or  any  other  magnitude, 
but  a  galaxy  of  stars,  from  which  every  one  could  spell  out 
a  star-picture  according  to  his  fancy.  Men  of  versatile  powers 
are  always  ignored,  but  those  of  one  gift  are  almost  invari- 
ably appreciated."  This  last  was,  in  fact,  the  case  with 
Herder.  Those  who  estimate  the  greatness  of  a  man  from 
his  special  services  in  a  given  department,  and  only  ask, 
'Who  was  the  greatest  poet?  Who  the  greatest  philosopher? 
Who  the  greatest  theologian?,'  seldom  unite  in  Herder's  praise. 
They  would  prefer  Schiller  and  Goethe  as  poets,  and  elevate 
Kant,  Fichte  and  Schelling  infinitely  above  him  as  philosophers. 
As  for  theology,  they  would  ask  whether  he  has  rendered 
any  extraordinary  service  in  exegesis,  church-history,  or  doc- 
trines, and  would  give  to  Mosheim,  Michaelis,  Semler,  Ernesti, 
and  Doederlein,  who  had  preceded  him,  and  to  Griesbach, 
Eichhorn,  Spittler,  and  Planck,  who  wrote  at  the  same  time 
with  him  or  afterward,  the  credit  for  the  most  celebrated 
achievements  in  their  departments.  We  answer,  that  great- 
ness in  one  department,  however  necessary  it  may  be  to  science 
in  general,  and  promotive  of  the  cause  of  learning,  is  by  no 
means  the  only  kind  of  greatness  which  deserves  our  ad- 

1  WerJce,  Part  VII.  p.  III. 


herder's  unique  mental  character. 


25 


miration.  It  can  be  more  easily  estimated;  and  for  this 
reason,  as  Jean  Paul  intimates,  it  receives  the  greatest  praise. 
But  where  a  strong  hold  is  to  be  taken  upon  life  itself ;  new 
intellectual  and  moral  states  to  be  introduced;  and  new  vistas 
of  truth  to  be  opened,  not  merely  within  the  concealed  bounds 
of  one  art  or  science,  but  in  the  whole  sphere  of  life,  the 
work  is  done  less  by  men  who  are  great  in  only  one  field 
than  by  those  universal  minds  of  whom  Herder  is  the  type 
of  one  class  and  Goethe  of  another. 

Goethe  was  even  more  universal  than  Herder;  but  he  lacked 
a  most  important  quality, — a  more  religious  and  definite 
relation  to  Christianity.  But  just  here  lay  Herder's  strength.1 
Though  Goethe's  influence  in  improving  the  knowledge  of  the 
world,  which  we  by  no  means  undervalue,  was  far  greater 
than  Herder's,  it  was  the  latter  who  led  us  to  an  infinitely 
higher  and  deeper  knowledge  of  God,  and,  without  confound- 
ing it  with  the  knowledge  of  the  world,  harmonized  the 
two  in  many  beautiful  forms.  If  we  give  Herder  an  inferior 
position  as  post  to  Schiller  and  Goethe,  we  do  not  look  upon 
him  merely  as  a  poet,  but  as  a  theologian,  public  speaker, 
popular  orator,  and  preacher.  It  is  just  this  union  of  the 
religious  and  theological  genius  with  the  poetic,  and  of  the 
literary  author  with  the  servant  of  the  chin  ch,  that  makes 
Herder  what  he  is.  —  a  man  whose  place  can  not  be  supplied 
by  another.  We  therefore  look  upon  him  as  a  peculiar  phe- 
nomenon, closing  an  old  period  and  beginning  a  new  one. 
For,  though  tkere  were  theologians  of  his  day  who  surpassed 
him  in  the  extent  and  profundity  of  their  knowledge,  and 
whose  researches  led,  in  individual  instances,  to  more  lasting- 
results  than  was  the  case  with  Herder's  bold  conceptions, 
not  one  of  them  seized  upon  life  with  so  strong  a  grasp. 

1  There  is  a  striking  comparison  between  Goethe  and  Herder  in 
Vm.  von  Humboldt's  Briefe  an  eine  Freundin,  Vol.  I.  p.  232.  Among  other 
things  he  says,  in  perfect  harmony  with  our  own  view:  "Herder  was 
inferior  to  Goethe  and  Schiller  in  compass  of  intellect  and  the  poetic 
faculty;  but  he  possessed  the  happy  union  of  spirit  and  imagination, 
by  which  he  produced  what  neither  of  those  men  did."  Is  not  just  this 
blending  of  spirit  and  imagination  the  requisite  for  the  religious  genius? 


26 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


They  improved  the  schools  more  than  he,  but  Herder  did 
more  for  the  people,  and  particularly  the  more  cultivated 
classes.  And  it  has  been  upon  the  schools,  and  especially 
upon  theological  science,  that  he  has  exerted  an  invigorating 
and  transforming  influence.  I  might  ask  those  who  have 
an  opinion  on  the  subject,  what  benefits  the  learning  of 
Michaelis,  deficient  as  it  was  in  all  poetic  feeling  and  deep 
truth,  has  conferred  upon  the  study  of  the  Bible,  compared 
with  that  enthusiastic  impulse  which  Herder  has  given  to  the 
study  and  elucidation  of  the  Old  Testament? 

Kant,  Fichte  and  Schelling  constitute  such  a  series  in 
philosophy  that  their  names  are  the  boundary-stones  of  the 
stages  of  the  later  history  of  philosophy,  where  Hegel  stands 
as  the  last.  But  here,  too,  the  schools  derived  their  most  im- 
mediate advantage  from  Herder.  These  very  men  made  use 
of  mystifying  and  ambiguous  formularies,  and  Herder  corn- 
batted  them  with  all  his  might,  contending  for  the  superiority 
of  mental  independence  to  artificial  and  labored  technicalities. 
And  it  was  high  time  for  the  advent  of  a  Herder  to  purify 
the  temple  from  the  desecration  of  the  new  scholasticism. 
There  have  been  individuals  who  have  brought  to  light  more 
fundamental  truth  from  ancient  sources.  But  who  has  awakened 
so  many  ideas  by  his  own  ideas,  and  scattered  so  many  sparks 
of  his  intellect  where  there  was  nothing  but  dead  matter, 
numbers  and  names,  and  registers  and  commentaries? 

Herder's  versatility  should  not  be  confounded  with  that 
shallow  general  knowledge  and  desultory  dabbling  in  many 
subjects,  which,  smacking  a  little  of  everything,  furnish  nothing 
thorough,  and  are  dissipated  by  being  spread  over  all  depart- 
ments of  knowledge.  But  no  one  was  more  opposed  to  in- 
completeness than  he  was.  What  Herder  did,  he  did  thor- 
oughly; he  seized  the  subject  by  the  roots,  never  being 
content  to  pluck  a  flower  from  the  hedge  merely  to  deck  off 
his  vanity.  Everywhere  we  see  peaks  of  his  intellect  reaching 
the  heavens,  while  its  weight  penetrated  the  lowest  depths. 
Wherever  his  genius  knocked,  there  was  no  dull  and  empty 
itound;  whenever  he  put  forth  an  effort,  he  never  descended 
to  mediocrity.  You  fail  to  find  in  him  thorough  elaboration, 


header's  assimilating  and  conservative  power.  27 

careful  finish,  and  mature  and  consecutive  examination  of 
thoughts;  and  you  will  take  exception  at  his  rigor  of  ex- 
pression, apparent  contradictions,  and  bold  assertions,  particu- 
larly when  he  speaks  so  confidently  as  to  cut  you  off  from  all 
contradiction.  But  in  no  case  is  it  the  shallow-brain  speaking 
with  stubbornness,  nor  the  one  who  says  over  again  what 
others  have  said  before  him,  and  only  wishes  to  reap  where 
he  has  never  sowed.  His  is  not  the  chaos  of  the  multifarious 
mind,  which  has  a  crude  mass  heaped  up  within  it,  as  was  the 
case  with  his  friend  Hamann.  On  the  contrary,  everything  that 
Herder  received  was  transformed  into  strength  and  blood, 
united  into  a  harmonious  whole,  and  articulated  and  organized, 
■ — thus  partaking  of  his  own  nature,  and  conceived  and  wrought 
out  as  only  he  could  do  it.  His  contemporary  and  antagonist, 
Kant,  perceived  this,  and  thus  made  mention  of  it  censoriously 
rather  than  approvingly  in  his  review  of  Herder's  Ideas  on 
the  History  of  Humanity:  "It  is  not  as  if  his  genius  only 
collected  ideas  from  the  wide  field  of  science  and  art,  so  as 
to  increase  them  and  fit  them  for  communication,  but  as  if 
he  transformed  them  by  a  certain  law  of  assimilation  into  a 
specific  method  of  thinking  peculiar  to  himself." 

We  may  take  this  statement  of  Kant  in  Herder's  favor,  and 
acid,  that  what  is  beautiful,  peculiar,  and  worthy  of  our  ad- 
miration is  the  fact  that  nothing  valuable  and  essential  is  lost 
in  the  process  of  this  most  vital  and  personal  assimilation;  but 
that  the  idea  becomes  permeated  by  his  own  consciousness, 
and  gains  clearness,  truth,  and  inner  beauty;  and  consequently, 
that  it  is  adapted  to  all  minds,  because  he  gives  it  forth  once 
more  freed  from  all  the  dross.  Herder  thought  and  felt  in  his 
times,  with  his  times,  and  for  his  times.  He  pronounced 
clearly  wThat  many  had  upon  their  tongues  and  could  not 
speak,  because  the  word  failed  them.  His  age  was  reflected 
in  him.  Humanity  found  and  recognized  in  him  the  picture 
of  itself.  And  for  this  reason  he  was  the  prophet  and  chan> 
pion  of  humanity. 

Therefore  we  only  understand  Herder  as  poet,  philosopher, 
theologian,  and  preacher  when  we  have  conceived  him  as  a 
man.  What  he  has  rendered  forth  in  a  living  state  must  be 

Vol.  II.— 3 


28 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


conceived  in  a  living  way, — I  might  say,  personally  perceived 
and  understood.  Whoever,  so  to  speak,  would  purchase  only 
wares  from  him,  derive  utility  from  him  by  the  measure,  and 
get  his  results  in  such  a  way  as  to  carry  them  home  in  his 
pocket,  will  frequently  be  deceived;  for  he  will  first  find  the 
discovered  wisdom  heavy  to  carry,  and,  after  all,  can  hold  but 
little  in  his  hand.  But  whoever  would  go  to  him  as  to  a 
refreshing  fountain,  delightful  fragrance,  and  an  invigorating 
atmosphere,  will  never  go  in  vain.  We  do  not  always  find 
the  sunlight  of  noonday  shining  forth  from  Herder's  writings ; 
sometimes  it  is  subdued,  like  that  of  twilight.  But  it  is  a 
twilight  in  which  we  never  feel  strange  or  lost,  but  hold  only 
the  more  firmly  to  the  guide  who  walks  boldly  forward, 
torch  in  hand.  Though  we  would  often  wish  that  he  had 
spoken  more  clearly,  w7e  never  entertain  the  suspicion  that 
he  was  not  clear  himself.  Even  where  we  do  not  meet  with 
plan  and  order,  where  he  seems  to  leap  instead  of  walk,  we 
have  no  fears  whatever;  and  when  we  reach  those  heights 
where  we  expected  least,  we  behold  a  magnificent  landscape 
spread  before  us. 

Though  it  is  difficult  to  keep  the  various  sides  of  Herder's 
character  separate,  we  must  yet  examine  them  individually, 
lest  we  lose  sight  of  our  principal  object.  We  do  not  intend, 
however,  to  commence  with  what  is  more  intimately  connected 
with  this  object,  namely,  the  theological  life  and  work  of  the 
man;  but  with  the  gifts  that  underlie  this  life, — his  poetic 
powers,  his  relation  to  the  philosophy  and  literature  of  his 
times,  and  with  all  that  Herder  was  accustomed  to  comprehend 
in  the  one  word  humanity.  As  for  Herder  as  a  poet,  we 
have  already  remarked  that  many  have  placed  him  below 
Schiller,  Goethe,  and  every  other  one  of  the  contemporary 
poets,  for  it  is  with  these  alone  that  Herder  can  be  compared. 
We  will  not  contend  about  precedence.  I  cheerfully  grant  that 
many,  if  not  the  most,  of  Herder's  early  poems  are  somewhat 
stiff  and  unwieldly,  and  can  not  be  read  with  satisfaction. 
The  greater  part  of  his  poetry  is  devoid  of  pleasant  versifi- 
cation (the  most  are  without  rhyme),  beauty  of  rhythm,  and 
that  peculiar  enchantment  which  distinguishes  the  poetry  of 


HERDER'S  POETIC  VIEW  OF  RELIGION.  29 

Schiller  and  Goethe.  But  this  does  not  at  all  disconcert  us. 
We  attribute  far  more  importance  to  Herder's  pure,  noble, 
and  lofty  poetic  sentiment  than  to  his  poetic  works,  among 
which  may  be  classed  his  Cid,  legends,  and  cantos,  as  his 
chief  works  of  art.  As  his  wife  says:  "Poetry  was  to  him 
no  unmeaning  jingle  of  words  and  forms,  but  God's  language."1 
Jean  Paul  strikingly  remarks  concerning  him:  "Though  he 
were  no  poet,  he  was  something  still  better, — a  poem, — an 
Indo-Grecian  epic,  composed  by  one  of  the  purest  divinities; 
for  everything  flowed  into  his  beautiful  soul  as  into  a  poem, 
and  the  true,  the  beautiful,  and  the  good  were  inseparable 
in  it.  He  was  poetic  after  the  manner  of  Grecian  life.  Poetry 
was  not  an  appendage  to  the  horizon  of  life,  like  the  gather- 
ing of  clouds  colored  as  a  rainbow,  which  one  sometimes  sees 
in  bad  weather,  but  it  was  a  free,  light  rainbow  itself,  soar- 
ing aloft,  and  shining  as  the  gate  of  heaven  above  this  thickly- 
clouded  life." 

This  thorough  and  appreciative  estimate  of  Jean  Paul  con- 
cerning Herder  is  of  great  value  in  determining  his  theologic- 
al opinions.  He  viewed  religion  in  a  poetic  light,  and  pene- 
trating the  spirit  of  the  oriental  poetry  of  the  Old  Testament, 
he  drew  forth  great  treasures  from  the  holy  books.  Thus, 
at  one  flight,  he  went  far  beyond  and  above  the  tedious  con- 
troversies of  his  times;  for,  in  my  opinion,  the  harmony  of 
theological  extremes  lies  in  a  great  measure  in  this  sensuous, 
poetic  contemplation  of  things.  Do  not  these  very  extremes 
mostly  come  from  an  over-wrought  intelligence,  deprived  of 
all  the  poetry  of  life,  from  a  cold  and  prosaic  manufacture 
of  deductions,  and  from  a  misconception  of  the  symbolical? 
Herder,  at  one  stroke,  cut  in  two  all  that  rabbinical,  scholastic 
subtlety  when  he  rescued  what  was  holy  from  profane  hands, 
and  fled  with  it  into  those  regions  where  only  a  sense  of  the 
beautiful,  the  special,  and  peculiar,  such  as  poetry  had  inspired 
him  with,  knew  where  to  go.  He  looked  into  the  very  depths 
of  that  religious  life  which  has  expressed  itself  in  the  history 
of  nations,  and,  above  all,  of  God's  people;  while  others  have 
wallowed  with  a  learned  air  in  the  mud  that  lay  upon  the  surface. 

1  Biographie,  p.  218. 


30 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Herder  regarded  poetry  as  something  more  than  the  manu- 
facture of  verses.  As  he  collected  the  songs  of  the  most 
diverse  nations  into  one  garland,  and  inhaled  the  fragrance 
of  Grecian  song  with  the  same  susceptibility  and  emotion  with 
which  he  would  listen  to  the  poem  of  Job  or  Ossian,  so  was 
history  the  soil  in  which  his  whole  grand  view  of  life,  his 
philosophy,  was  rooted.  Herder  was  a  philosophical  poet  and 
a  poetic  philosopher;  but  in  neither  sense  can  he  be  charged 
with  that  shallow  universality  in  which  so  many  pretended 
geniuses  indulge,  having  neither  foundation  nor  nourishing  root. 
Poetry  and  philosophy  were  the  flowers  of  his  intellect;  but 
the  stalk  took  its  root  in  history,  and  not  the  history  of  one 
people  or  one  age,  but  of  humanity.  Herder,  in  his  Ideas 
on  the  Philosophy  of  the  History  of  Humanity,  prosecuted 
the  thought  which  Iselin  first  expressed  as  "the  progress  of 
humanity  from  the  extremest  simplicity  to  an  ever-rising  con- 
dition of  light  and  happiness." 1  In  the  very  title  of  this  work 
we  find  Herder's  genius  reflected,  not  in  sundering  philosophy 
and  history,  but  in  bringing  them  into  the  most  intimate  con- 
nection and  harmony.  A  philosophy  without  history,  and  built 
on  merely  abstract  statements,  was  as  odious  to  him  as  a 
history  of  only  chaotic  materials,  without  the  light  and  at- 
mosphere of  philosophical  ideas.  The  who:^  secret  of  Herder's 
genius  lies  in  this  union  of  history  and  philosophy,  elevated 
to  a  higher  unity  by  his  celebrated  poetic  observation  of  the 
universe.  "Poetry,  philosophy,  and  history,"  he  tells  us  him- 
self, "seem  to  me  the  three  lights  which  illuminate  nations, 
sects,  and  races; — a  holy  triangle!  Poetry  elevates  man,  by 
a  pleasant  sensuous  presence  of  things,  above  all  separations 
and  limitations;  Philosophy  furnishes  him  with  strong  and 
permanent  principles  thereon ;  and,  if  it  be  necessary,  History 
will  not  deny  him  her  wise  maxims."2 

Herder's  historical  and  philosophical  sense,  not  less  than 
his  poetic  view  of  the  world,  furnishes  us  with  the  key  for 
estimating  his  influence  upon  the  formation  of  religious  ideas. 
Rationalism  was  false  and  partial  in  its  disregard  of  historical 

1  Iselin,  Geschichte  der  Menschheit,  p.  xxxv. 

2  Briefe  zur  Beförderung  der  Humanität,  Vol.  I.  p.  397. 


ACCOMMODATION  OF  HUMANITY  AND  DIVINITY.  31 

principles  and  developments,  and  in  its  wish  to  substitute  a 
religion  of  reason  for  the  existing  one.  But  the  prevailing 
orthodoxy  was  false  and  partial  in  its  clinging  to  historical  facts 
as  a  dead  letter.  Here  Herder  achieved  a  real  reconciliation, 
inasmuch  as  he  would  grant  that  there  was  nothing  perfect 
and  ready  in  man  which  had  not  come  by  instruction,  history, 
divine  communication,  and  revelation.  But  he  believed,  further, 
that  man  could  receive  and  assimilate  nothing  from  without 
unless  there  was  in  him  a  kindred  power,  by  which  to  rec- 
ognize what  was  suited  to  him,  receive  it,  work  it  into  his 
being,  give  an  exterior  development,  and  advance  it  to  the 
best  of  his  ability.  Thus,  for  example,  in  his  prize-essay  on 
the  Origin  of  Language,  he  attacked  the  apparently  devout 
but  mechanical  view  that  man  received  language  alone  from 
without,  and  by  divine  communication.  He  held  that  its 
origin  could  only  be  divine  in  so  far  as  it  was  human.  But 
with  Herder,  the  divine  and  human  did  not  constitute  an 
antagonism,  as  is  often  attributed  to  those  words,  by  which 
Deity  renounces  everything  human,  and  man  every  thing  divine; 
nor  did  he  consider  them  an  outward  approach  of  one  to  the 
other.  But  he  would  see  the  divine  reconciled  with  the 
human,  and  the  human  illuminated  and  dignified  by  the 
divine.  Everything  was  divine  and  everything  human  to  him, 
according  as  you  take  it.  We  have  called  Herder  a  priest  of 
the  purely  human, — a  priest  of  humanity.  We  must  delay 
awhile  with  this  thought,  before  treating  him  as  a  theo- 
logian. 

We  have  thus  far  considered  poetry,  philosophy,  and  history 
as  separate  branches  of  Herder's  character  and  labors,  but 
let  us  now  group  them  in  that  one  word  which  Herder  uttered 
with  more  force  than  any  one  else  has  done,  and  which  he 
placed  in  the  mouth  and  into  the  very  soul  of  his  age,  —  the 
word  humanity.  Like  the  word  tolerance,  it  became  a  watch- 
word, a  shibboleth  of  the  century.  And  as  we  are  dwelling 
upon  the  representative  of  humanity,  it  becomes  us  to  arrive 
at  a  definite  understanding  of  this  word,  with  which  a 
great  portion  of  recent  history  is  connected,  in  order  that 
we  may  discuss  the  relation  in  which  this  modern  humanity 


32 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


stands  to  Christianity  and  to  the  Protestantism  of  the  century. 
But  let  us  candidly  ask  first,  what  did  Herder  himself  mean 
by  the  word?  He  knew  very  well  that  a  word  does  not  con- 
stitute the  thing,  and  that  it  is  difficult  to  find  any  word 
to  which  somebody  can  not  take  exception.1  And  yet  he 
knew  of  no  better  one. 

Human  dignity,  he  held,  is  that  lofty  character  of  our  race  to 
which  it  must  be  trained.  For  the  beautiful  word  benevolence, 
which  had  become  so  weakened  as  to  mean  that  one  mostly  loves 
his  fellow-men  that  he  may  love  none  of  them  effectively,  Herder 
substituted  the  foreign  word  humanity.  He  meant  by  it  the 
character  of  our  race,  that  which  belongs  to  us  by  nature, 
and  to  which  we  must  be  developed.  "We  do  not  bring  it 
complete,"  said  he,  "  into  the  world,  but,  being  in  the  world, 
it  should  be  the  aim  of  our  labor,  and  the  sum  of  our  efforts 
and  our  worth.  Therefore,  the  divine  in  our  race  is  culture 
for  humanity.  All  great  and  good  men,  lawgivers,  discoverers, 
philosophers,  poets,  artists,  —  every  noble  man  in  his  sphere 
of  labor,  —  have  contributed  to  this  result  by  the  training  of 
their  children,  by  the  discharge  of  their  duties,  and  by  example, 
work,  institution,  and  doctrine.  Humanity,  the  treasure  and 
gain  of  all  human  endeavors,  is,  so  to  speak,  the  art  of  our 
race.  And  the  necessary  culture  for  it  is  a  work  which  must 
be  prosecuted  unremittingly,  or  we  shall  sink  back,  both  upper 
and  lower  classes,  into  rough  bestiality  and  brutishness." 

With  Herder,  humanity  is  as  old  as  the  human  race.  If 
the  very  idea  of  man  reminds  us  of  his  weakness  and 
frailty,  so  does  it  also  recall  his  humaneness,  and  his  sym- 
pathetic love  of  his  fellow-man.  The  task  of  humanity  is  to 
arrive  at  a  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  man,  to  effect  the 
development  of  his  natural  capacities  in  a  way  commensurate 
with  his  nature,  and  secure  the  collection  of  all  men  into  one 
city  of  God,  where  only  one  law  reigns,  and  that  the  spirit 
of  universal  reason.  "I  wish,"  said  he,  "that  I  could  com- 
prehend in  the  word  humanity  all  that  I  have  said  on  man's 

1  On  this  and  the  following,  compare  especially  the  Briefe  über 
Humanität,  and  the  Ideen  zur  Philosophie  der  Geschichte  der  Menschheit 
(WerU  zur  Phil  und  Gesch.,  Vol.  III.  p.  217). 


RELATION  OF  HUMANITY  TO  CHRISTIANITY.  33 

noble  culture  toward  reason  and  freedom,  toward  the  improve- 
ment and  control  of  the  earth;  for  man  has  no  nobler  word 
for  his  destiny  than  himself."  Thus  far  with  Herder  him- 
self. But  now  we  may  ask :  Is  not  all  this  the  task  of  Chris- 
tianity ?  Certainly  it  is,  and  Herder  so  understood  it.  "  Chris- 
tianity," said  he,  "  requires  the  purest  humanity  in  the  purest 
way."  But  we  further  inquire,  why  do  we  have  this  preach- 
ing of  humanity  with  the  preaching  of  Christianity?  The 
answer  can  be  best  given  historically;  and  therefore  permit 
me,  in  conclusion,  to  subjoin  to  Herder's  life  an  historical 
statement  of  the  relation  of  humanity  to  Christianity  and 
Protestantism. 

Christianity  is  undoubtedly  the  religion  of  mankind.  Christ, 
the  Son  of  man,  is  also  the  best  friend  of  man,  and  his 
Spirit  the  true  instructor  of  the  human  race.  But  we  know 
how  soon  men  departed  from  these  simple  ideas,  and  how 
Christian  dc  t  ine  became  strange  to  man  by  his  amassing  of 
liejerogeneous  dogmas,  and  how  a  misconception  of  the  doc- 
trine of  human  depravity  led  him  to  think  that,  at  one  time 
he  had  to  be  on  a  level  with  the  brute,  but  at  another, 
supernatural  duties  were  required  of  him.  Christianity  would 
effect  more  than  the  mere  education  of  the  natural  man;  it 
would  achieve  his  restoration  to  God's  image.  This  distin- 
guishes it  from  the  ancient  or  ante-christian  conception  of 
humanity.  It  recognizes  an  old  and  a  new  man.  We  should 
put  off  the  old  man,  which  has  become  corrupt  by  sinful 
lusts,  and  put  on  the  new  man,  which  is  created  after  God's 
image  in  righteousness  and  holiness.  But  even  this  new  man, 
which  is  created  after  God"s  image,  should  in  turn  become 
natural  to  us  by  the  grace  of  God;  Christ  should  take  form 
within  us;  the  inner  man  should  be  renewed  within  us  day 
by  day.  And  the  new  man  should  not  sit  upon  us  as  a 
new  garment,  in  which  we  walk  about  stiffly  and  strangely, 
but  should  be  as  another  nature  to  us;  it  should  conqaer 
the  old  within  us,  and  enable  us  to  walk  freely  as  the  new- 
born, the  elect,  the  illuminated,  the  sons  of  God.1 

1  This  thought  is  e'.abrvated  in  my  Whitsuntide  Sermon  on 
1  Cor.  ii.  14.    Basle,  1856. 


34 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


But,  according  to  Herder,  this  naturalization  of  the  super- 
natural, this  formation  of  the  divine  within  the  human,  and 
the  elevation  of  the  human  to  the  divine,  would  not  be  under- 
stood by  Christendom  for  a  long  time.  The  old  variance 
between  the  human  and  divine  would  always  reäppear;  men 
would  ever  believe  that  they  could  obtain  something  peculiarly 
holy  by  the  suffocation,  removal,  and  overstraining  of  human 
thoughts  and  instincts.  Hence  the  rise  of  the  self-sacrificing 
monastic  piety  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the  abortions  of 
scholasticism,  which  turned  away  the  human  mind  from  the 
wholesome  observation  of  itself  and  of  nature.  Though  these 
phenomena  took  place  on  Christian  soil,  they  were  in  opposi- 
tion to  humanity.  The  Reformation  has  restored  their  rights 
to  the  divine  and  the  human.  Even  before  it  occurred,  an 
interest  for  human  affairs,  for  human  life  and  effort,  had  been 
awakened  by  the  restoration  of  the  sciences  and  the  revival 
of  the  study  of  the  classics.  But  this  modern  humanism, 
—  which  we  distinguish  from  modern  humanity, — was  not 
sufficient  for  its  purpose,  because  it  allied  itself  only  to  the 
ancient  wrorld  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  and  merely  brought 
Christianity  into  outward  connection  with  it.  There  wras 
needed  a  stronger  awakening  from  the  lowest  depths  of 
religious  experience,  and  a  new  birth  from  faith, — just  as 
were  effected  by  Luther. 

Now,  how  was  humanity  related  to  this  work  of  the  Refor- 
mation? We  do  not  say  that  Luther  had  no  taste  for  the 
purely  human,  for  he  advocated  it,  in  his  noble  frankness. 
But  it  was  this  very  frankness  which  proved  that  the  purely 
human  had  not  become  a  matter  of  consciousness  in  him. 
His  sense  of  the  human  as  such  wras  far  inferior  to  his 
enthusiasm  for  those  divine  ends  which  he  rightfully  served, 
in  view  of  his  position.1  But  the  sturdiness  of  his  natural 
man  may  have  suppressed  in  him  many  pure  manifestations  of 
humanity,  while,  for  example,  the  more  quiet  and  refined 
Melanchthon  impresses  us  more  as  a  human  theologian.2  But 

1  Schenkel,  in  his  Wesen  des  Protestantismus,  Vol.  I.  p.  316  ff.,  has  shown 
that  humanity  did  not  receive  its  due  in  Luther's  christology. 

2  Even  Zwiugli  and  Calvin  unquestionably  surpassed  Luther  in  urbanity. 


header's  humanizing  influence  on  PROTESTANTISM.  o5 

humanity  was  subsequently  driven  off  again  from  theology. 
Coarse  and  ignorant  brawls  frightened  it  away,  and  only 
single  noble  minds,  such  as  Valentine  Andrea,  a  favorite  of 
Herder,  stood  with  their  clear  human  faces  high  above  the 
heated  heads  of  the  combatants. 

Pietism  too,  although  it  did  a  noble  work  against  dead 
orthodoxy,  was  not  distinguished  for  humanity.  True,  in  its 
first  stage,  the  period  of  Spener  and  Francke,  and  even  later, 
it  developed  a  high  degree  of  active  benevolence;  and  its 
magnificent  institutions  are  eminent  works  of  humanity  and 
noble  evidences  of  it.  But  that  other  and  more  ideal  side  of 
humanity,  that  public  taste  for  multiform  human  growth  and 
the  maturity  of  all  endowments, — art,  for  example, — and,  in  a 
word,  the  sense  of  the  beautiful,  were  totally  repudiated  by 
Pietism,  which  opposed  the  world  as  undivine,  and  could 
only  look  upon  its  improvement  in  chiliastic  perspective.  It 
was  reserved  for  the  eighteenth  century  to  recognize,  culti- 
vate, exercise,  and  vitalize  this  sense,  which  was  awakened 
on  all  sides  and  announced  in  every  direction;  and  in  the 
present  century  it  was  Herder  who  carried  the  light  in  the 
van  and  opened  the  way.  What  the  philanthropinism  of  Base- 
dow had  inaugurated  in  a  homely  and  rough  way,  and  what 
the  noble  Iselin  had  already  attempted  in  more  timid  and 
limited  efforts,  now  received  through  Herder  its  deeper  truth, 
nobler  direction,  and  more  extensive  propagation.  And  thus 
Herder  advanced  the  work  of  evangelical  Protestantism  in 
such  a  way  that  he  introduced  humanity  into  it  at  the  same 
time  that  he  humanized  the  Reformation.  But  as  every  thing 
has  its  dark  side,  we  will  not  forget  that  enthusiasm  for 
humanity,  which  we  now  meet  with  everywhere,  has  assumed 
a  perverted  tendency,  and  that  what  should  have  been  a 
member  in  the  historical  development  of  evangelical  Prot- 
estantism has  produced  in  its  ton  ungratifying  results,  and, 
being  torn  loose  from  the  body,  has  exerted  a  deleterious 
influence.  Those  who  were  impelled  by  instinct  and  zeal  to 
seek  only  the  human  in  man  could  not  succeed  in  finding 
man  himself,  and  what  Herder  said  of  the  beautiful  word 
pliilanthropy  could  also  be  affirmed  of  humanity, — that  many 


36 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


had  taken  it  upon  their  lips  without  showing  themselves  human 
in  their  lives.1 

The  charm  which  is  always  contained  in  the  sound  of  a 
new  word  was  great  enough  to  attract  many  from  plain  evan- 
gelical truth,  and  lead  them  to  deride  Christianity  as  a  lower 
step  of  humanity,  if,  indeed,  it  was  any  better  than  barbarism. 
The  term  Immunity  was  thought  to  be  in  direct  antagonism 
to  the  national  and  confessional  narrowness  of  earlier  times. 
Every  one  should  feel  that  he  is  human,  and  this  feeling 
should  put  to  flight  every  thing  that  tends  to  separate  the 
members  of  one  people  from  those  of  another,  and  the  ad- 
herents of  one  religion  from  those  who  believe  in  a  different  one. 
If  people  meant  thereby  that  partial,  selfish,  and  perverted 
views,  under  the  appearance  of  nationality  and  religion,  severed 
men  from  one  another,  and  prompted  them  to  narrow-minded 
exclusiveness  and  foolish,  mutual  hate,  this  preaching  of  hu- 
manity would  be  altogether  in  place.  But  the  lauded  humanity 
very  easily  passed  into  indifference  toward  everything  religious 
and  national,  and  introduced  cosmopolitanism  in  politics  and 
indifference  in  religion.  It  soon  came  to  pass  that  the  ideal 
love  for  the  inhabitants  of  Terra  del  Fuego  and  the  Iroquois 
Indians  suppressed  practical  love  toward  one's  neighbor;  and 
the  professors  of  humanity  renounced  all  Christian  fellowship, 
and  calumniated  in  the  most  inhuman  way  everything  that 
the  church  had  done,  or  had  proceeded  from  the  church. 
Indeed,  while  it  had  previously  been  necessary  that  man  should 
put  off  the  natural  man  in  order  to  become  a  Christian,  these 
persons  demanded  that  Christ  should  be  put  off  in  order  to 
be  man. 

We  know,  from  what  has  been  said  already,  that  Herder 
did  not  share  this  opinion.  As  for  the  nation,  no  one  had  a 
more  German  heart  than  himself,  although  he  had  an  open 
and  receptive  appreciation  of  the  most  varied  nationalities. 

*  Hundeshagen,  in  his  Lecture  before  the  Frankfort  Church  Diet, 
1854,  on  the  Inner  Mission  of  the  Universities,  has  shown  how  great  is 
the  mission  of  the  word  humanity  in  recent  times,  and  how  the  entire 
observation  of  the  world  haa  finally  become  changed  from  the  divine 
to  the  human  point  of  view. 


HERDER'S  LATER  HUMAN  VIEW  CF  CHRISTIANITY.  37 

As  for  Christianity,  it  must  by  all  means  be  confessed  that, 
especially  in  the  later  period  of  his  life,  he  construed  what 
was  peculiarly  Christian  in  its  historical  and  doctrinal  cer- 
tainty too  much  in  the  sense  of  what  he  termed  the  purely 
human.  But  we  will  not  express  our  opinion  on  this  point 
before  we  become  acquainted  with  Herder  in  his  wider  char- 
acter of  theologian.  For  the  present,  let  us  close  with  that 
sentiment  which  Herder  has  characterized  as  at  once  the 
watchword  of  humanity  and  Christianity :  "While  bad  morality 
is  satisfied  with  the  proverb,  'Every  one  for  himself  and  no 
one  for  all,'  the  true  watchword  of  Christianity  is,  'No  one 
for  himself  alone,  but  every  one  for  all.' "  And,  in  Herder's 
opinion,  this  was  the  true  watchword  of  humanity. 


LECTURE  HI. 

HERDER  AS  A  THEOLOGIAN.  —  HIS  HUMAN  METHOD  OP  CON- 
TEMPLATING THE  DIVINE.  —  POETIC  OBSERVATION  OP  THE 
WORLD.  —  SCENE  IN  A  JOURNEY. — HERDER'S  CHRISTIANITY. 
—  HIS  THEOLOGICAL  CONVICTIONS  AND  CHARACTER.  —  HIS 
OPINIONS  ON  THEOLOGY  AND  THE  MINISTERIAL  OFFICE. — 
HERDER  AS  A  PREACHER.  —  HIS  VIEW  OF  HYMNS,  AND  HIS 
OWN  GIFTS  AS  RELIGIOUS  POET. 

In  the  last  lecture  we  considered  Herder  as  poet,  as  the 
prophet  and  representative  of  humanity,  and  as  a  philosophical 
historian,  or,  if  you  prefer,  as  a  historical  philosopher.  We  then 
gave  an  account  of  the  nature  of  humanity  as  a  cooperative 
agency  in  the  kingdom  of  thought.  We  will  now  speak  of 
him  as  a  theologian.  The  previous  discussion  was  necessary,  in 
order  to  establish  a  basis  for  our  present  examination.  For 
Herder  as  a  theologian  stands  upon  the  very  ground  spread 
before  us  in  the  previous  lecture, — the  ground  of  a  universal 
human  civilization,  the  ground  of  humanity. 

His  theological  labors  were  not  separate  from  his  other  work. 
He  was  not  simply  a  learned  man  who  occasionally  made 
verses  for  his  own  amusement;  nor  was  he  a  preacher  who 
passionately  buried  himself  in  the  study  of  history  when  he 
did  not  have  to  preach.  As  we  have  already  seen,  all  things 
were  alike  to  him.  He  was  a  theological  poet  and  a  truly 
poetic  theologian.  Poetry  and  prose,  the  spiritual  and  the 
temporal,  the  scientific  and  the  national,  were  all  conferred 
on  him  in  union.  In  those  of  his  works  that  were  not  theo- 
logical he  appeared  too  theological  to  men  of  the  world; 


herder's  theology. 


39 


while,  on  the  other  hand,  in  his  strictly  theological  writings, 
he  could  seem  too  little  so  to  rigidly  professional  theolo- 
gians, and,  lastly,  he  could  seem  much  too  worldly  to 
the  seriously  pious.  He  even  introduced  theology  into  the 
purely  human,  — into  humanity  itself.  In  a  certain  degree, 
he  humanized  the  Bible  and  Christianity,  though  of  divine 
origin.  This  thought  of  humanization  makes  one  shudder,  but 
the  fright  will  pass  off  or  decrease  on  further  explanation. 
Everything  depends  upon  what  we  mean  by  human,  and 
what  is  our  standard  for  measuring  man.  If  one  means  by 
human  what  is  evil,  frail,  sinful,  and  pitiable,  it  sounds  like 
blasphemy  to  call  Christianity  a  human  religion  and  the 
Bible  a  human  book.  For  it  is  equivalent  to  saying:  What 
you  have  heretofore  claimed  to  be  divine,  and  revered  as 
divine,  is  only  a  useless  piece  of  man's  workmanship,  a 
human  discovery,  an  arbitrary,  despotic  command,  and  a 
sheer  deception. 

This  language  had  been  employed  before  Herder's  time, 
and,  indeed,  in  all  times.  But  he  who  would  believe  that 
Herder  accorded  with  it  even  slightly  only  exposes  his 
ignorance  of  the  opinions  of  the  great  man's  thoughts.  Herder's 
views  were  just  the  reverse.  The  very  Bible  that  so  many 
had  striven  to  set  aside  as  an  antiquated  and  obscure  book, 
and  as  a  museum  of  old  prejudices,  he  would  hold  aloft  as 
the  light  in  the  candlestick  of  the  sanctuary,  just  as  Luther 
had  done  in  the  days  of  the  Reformation.  It  was  just  the 
despised  and  scorned  form  of  the  Son  of  man  on  whom  the 
most  depraved  souls  believed  they  had  a  right  to  heap  their 
contumely;  but  it  was  this  same  form  that  he  would  revive 
before  the  eyes  of  the  world,  place  it  in  its  native  glory, 
divinity  in  the  form  of  a  servant,  and,  in  quite  another  sense 
than  that  of  Pilate,  cry  aloud  to  them:  "Behold  the  man!" 
He  would  announce  that  he  too  knew  of  no  other  name 
whereby  men  can  be  saved  than  that  of  Jesus  Christ.  The 
whole  effort  of  Herder  now  seems  to  have  been  apologetic 
from  the  beginning,  inspired  as  he  was  with  a  courageous 
spirit  to  defend  the  divine  character  of  the  Bible  and  Chris- 
tianity against  all  freethinking. 


40 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


This  was  expressed  in  his  earlier  works  in  the  most  posi- 
tive and  vigorous  language,  though  he  incurred  the  danger 
of  being  called  a  blockhead  by  the  illuminists.  But  it  must 
have  occasioned  Herder  great  pain  when  he  saw  the  theolo- 
gians, through  an  unskillful  defence,  place  arms  in  the  hands 
of  their  enemies  by  seeking  the  divinity  of  the  Bible  where 
it  is  not  to  be  found,  by  an  undue  zeal  for  the  letter  to  the 
total  neglect  of  the  spirit,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  by  abandon- 
ing what  should  have  been  retained,  and  bringing  the  Bible 
into  discredit  by  their  artificial  and  strained  expositions. 
Herder  required  of  every  one  who  would  read  the  Bible  and 
Christianity  at  the  same  time  to  understand  the  matter  for 
himself,  to  penetrate  it  with  his  own  vision.  Nor  should  he 
cling  to  devised  words  and  phrases,  but  read  the  Scriptures 
as  they  must  be  read, — as  a  book  which,  with  all  its  divine 
origin  and  divine  end,  was  nevertheless  written  by  human  hands, 
for  men,  for  human  eyes,  human  hearts,  and  human  minds. 
Though  it  is  a  book  written  for  all  time,  yea,  for  eternity, 
it  also  concerns  given  times  and  circumstances,  and  will  be 
understood  by  them.  Herder  brought  out  anew  the  estimate  of 
that  purely  human  side  of  the  Bible  upon  which  Luther  had 
laid  great  stress,  and  by  which  it  becomes  incorporated  with 
our  humanity.  It  was  in  this  sense  that  he  began  his  Letters 
on  the  Study  of  Theology  with  the  following  words:  "My 
dear  friend,  the  best  study  of  divinity  is  the  study  of  the 
Bible,  and  the  best  reading  of  the  divine  book  is  human. 
The  Bible  must  be  read  in  a  human  way,  for  it  was  written 
by  men  and  for  men.  The  more  humanly  we  read  God's 
Word,  the  nearer  do  we  approach  the  purpose  of  its  Author, 
who  created  man  in  his  own  image,  and  deals  toward  us 
humanly  in  all  those  works  and  blessings  where  he  manifests 
himself  to  us  as  God." 

All  can  readily  see  that  this  humanity  does  not  stand  in 
the  way  of  the  divinity,  but  is  rather  its  support.  And  ho>v 
child-like  and  humbly  great  does  Herder  open  his  heart  and 
thoughts  to  the  Divine  Spirit  who  speaks  to  us  through  the 
Scriptures!  He  thus  writes  in  his  Letters  to  Theophron. 
"As  a  child  listens  to  its  father's  voice,  and  as  a  man  to 


HERDER'S  HARMONIZING  OF  HISTORY  AND  POETRY.  41 

that  of  his  betrothed,  so  do  we  hear  God's  voice  in  the 
Scriptures,  and  thereby  learn  the  music  of  eternity  which 
sounds  through  them.  ...  If  God's  Word  is  presented  to 
me  in  the  hand  of  criticism  as  a  squeezed  lemon,  God  be 
praised  that  it  becomes  once  more  a  fruit  to  me,  growing  as 
it  does  upon  the  tree  of  life!" 1  But  however  necessary  Herder 
deemed  a  scientific  treatment  of  the  Bible,  and  learned 
researches  into  it  and  its  history;  and  as  little  as  he  was 
disposed  to  put  a  stop  to  the  criticism  of  Wettstein,  Semler, 
Ernesti,  and  others,  his  opposition  was  very  decided  to  all 
hypercriticism,  and  to  all  that  artificial  and  dangerous  expo- 
sition by  which  many  at  that  time  were  commencing  to  torture 
the  Bible.  He  who  at  first  held  fast  to  the  opinion  that  the 
Scriptures  must  be  understood  and  enjoyed  with  poetic  feeling, 
could  not  find  language  sufficient  to  express  his  repugnance 
to  the  folly  of  those  who  would  convert  all  Biblical  history 
into  mere  poetry.  "  Sooner  than  this,"  he  said,  "  I  would 
denounce  all  poetry,  and  prefer  in  its  stead  the  boldest  and 
driest  history." 

Thus  does  his  historic  sense  again  hold  the  scales  for 
the  poetic.  He  beautifully  continues:  "It  is  certainly  a  fine 
thread  which  pervades  the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  especially 
in  those  passages  where  symbol  and  fact,  history  and  poetry, 
mingle  together.  Rough  hands  can  seldom  follow  it,  much 
less  unravel  it,  without  breaking  or  tangling  it,  or  without 
injuring  either  the  poetry  or  history  which,  knitting  them- 
selves into  it,  constitute  it  a  complete  unity.  It  is  truly  said  : 
4  To  explain  belongs  to  God,'  or  to  that  man  on  whom  there 
rests  the  spirit  of  the  gods,  the  genius  of  all  ages,  and,  so 
to  speak,  the  childhood  of  the  human  race.  People  set  them- 
selves to  this  work  who  really'  know  nothing  about  it,  and 
to  whom  nothing  is  more  strange  than  poetic  sentiment, 
particularly  that  of  the  East;  and  if  they  were  the  greatest 
dogmatists  and  critics  in  the  world,  the  plants  lose  their  color 
as  they  breathe  upon  them,  and  wither  beneath  their  hands." 
Golden  words,  which  should  be  inscribed  in  large  characters 

1  Werke  zur  Religion  und  Theologie,  Vol.  X.  p.  217  ff. 


4<2 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


over  the  judgment-seat  of  many  of  the  critics  of  recent 
times! 

This  poetic  sentiment  of  the  East  demanded  by  Herder 
was  possessed  by  himself  in  a  remarkable  degree,  and  he 
declared  it  everywhere  in  his  writings.  But  it  was  not  an 
acquired  and  studied  feeling,  but  one  that  was  self- experienced. 
Had  Herder  been  favored  with  a  journey  to  the  East,  what 
rich  fruits  the  West  might  have  reaped  from  it!  But  he  had 
eastern  feelings,  though  surrounded  by  western  circumstances, 
because  it  was  with  a  receptive  oriental  sense  that  he  every- 
where heard  the  key-notes  of  nature.  His  voyage  from  Riga 
to  Nantes  was  therefore  a  living  commentary,  which  aided 
him  in  part  to  understand  Ossian  and  in  part  to  comprehend 
the  Bible.  Thus  he  exclaims  in  his  Diary  of  the  journey: 
"What  food  is  furnished  for  thinking  on  distant  worlds  by  a 
vessel  that  moves  on  between  heaven  and  the  sea!  Here, 
everything  gives  wings,  and  motion,  and  far-reaching  atmos- 
phere to  thought, — the  flapping  sails,  the  ever-heaving  ship, 
the  rolling  waves,  the  flying  clouds,  and  the  infinite  at- 
mosphere! On  land  we  are  pinned  down  to  a  deep  point, 
and  shut  up  in  the  narrow  circle  of  one  situation.  The  former 
is  often  a  study-chair  in  a  gloomy  room,  with  the  seat  at  a 
simple,  hired  table;  or  it  is  a  pulpit,  or  a  lecture-room  platform. 
The  latter  is  often  only  a  little  town,  a  public  idol  to  which  one 
is  compelled  to  listen,  or  one  routine  employment,  in  which  we 
are  often  repelled  by  custom  and  presumption.  Now  I  step 
out  all  at  once  without  books,  writing,  or  employment  of  any 
kind.  ...  I  am  rather  thrown  out;  .  .  .  and  what  a 
different  view  is  presented  to  me!  Where  is  the  solid  land 
on  which  I  have  often  stood  so  safely,  and  the  little  pulpit 
and  the  professor's  chair  on  which  I  have  prided  myself? 
Where  are  those  whom  I  have  feared  and  loved?  0  my  soul? 
how  will  it  go  with  thee  when  thou  leavest  this  world  ?  The 
narrow,  solid,  and  pent-up  center  has  vanished,  and  thou 
roamest  in  the  air  or  swimmest  in  the  sea;  the  world  dis- 
appears from  thee;  it  has  vanished  beneath  thee!  He  has 
badly  learned  the  business  of  a  philosopher  who  cannot 
philosophize  from  nature  without  books  and  instruments.  If 


herder's  reflections  on  shipboard. 


43 


I  had  known  this  before,  what  a  position  I  would  have, — while 
sitting  beneath  the  mast,  out  on  the  wide  ocean, — for  philoso- 
phizing on  heaven,  the  sun,  stars,  moon,  atmosphere,  tempest, 
sea,  rain,  currents,  fish,  and  depths  of  the  sea,  and  for  finding 
out  the  nature  of  all  these  things!  To  become  the  philosopher 
of  nature, — that  shall  be  thy  standpoint  with  the  young 
man  whom  thou  teachest."  And  this  was  the  position  at 
which  Herder  aimed  in  his  elucidation  of  the  Bible. 

"Sailors,"  said  he,  among  other  things,  "are  very  much 
influenced  by  superstition  and  what  is  wonderful.  Since  they 
are  compelled  to  pay  attention  to  the  wind  and  weather,  to 
small  signs  and  harbingers;  and  since  their  fate  depends 
upon  aerial  phenomena,  there  is  ground  enough  for  their 
taking  cognizance  of  signs  and  presages.  Hence  their  reverent 
observation  of  the  heavens,  and  their  careful  study  of  signs. 
.  .  .  What  man  would  not  pray  in  the  storm  of  a  fear- 
fully dark  night,  in  the  hurricane,  and  in  all  those  places  where 
pale  Death  lives?  When  all  human  help  is  wanting,  man 
always  relies  on  divine  assistance.  .  .  .  However  reckless 
a  man  may  generally  be,  he  will  believe,  and  pray,  and  give 
expression  to  devout  utterances  when  surrounded  by  the  dread 
realities  of  the  sea;  nor  will  he  ask  how  Jonah  could  be  in 
the  whale,  for  with  God  all  things  are  possible.  He  will  do 
this,  though,  under  other  circumstances,  he  may  have  thought 
he  could  make  a  religion  for  himself,  and  that  the  Bible  is 
of  no  account.  All  the  language  that  is  used  on  shipboard, 
the  morning  and  night  watches,  are  couched  in  pious  ex- 
pressions, and  are  as  solemn  as  a  hymn  from  the  cabin  of 
the  ship." 

Thus  Herder  reflected  upon  his  great  philosophy,  exegesis, 
and  theology  while  among  sailors  and  breathing  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  sea,  just  as  Luther  pondered  over  his  Bible  at 
the  Wartburg,  and  indulged  in  theological  thoughts  while  upon 
the  chase.  Such  natural  studies,  in  their  highest  view,  have, 
in  all  ages,  contributed  more  to  the  sound  knowledge  of  divin- 
ity than  the  mere  learning  of  the  cloister.  Those  ideas 
which  Herder  expressed  in  his  Oldests  Records  of  the  Human 
Race,  through  which  he  would  deliver  the  Mosaic  account 

Vol.  II.— 4 


44 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


of  the  creation  from  the  hands  of  those  who  looked  upon  it  as 
a  physical  compendium,  owe  their  very  origin  to  these  power- 
ful impressions  derived  from  the  natural  world.  The  rising 
of  the  sun,  as  he  daily  renews  himself,  is  to  him  the  eloquent 
picture  of  the  first  morning  of  creation;  and  as  here  nature 
gradually  awakens,  the  clouds  and  vapors  vanish,  and  dryness 
and  solidity  assume  their  fixed  proportions;  and  as  the  world 
of  plants  once  more  revives,  the  beasts  come  forth  from 
their  hiding-places,  and  man  again  awakens  to  his  senses, 
so  were  these  to  him  the  daily  repeated  theme  of  Genesis, 
in  which  he  found  the  inspired  truth  of  the  six  days'  work. 
Herder  looked  at  many  other  parts  of  the  Old  Testament  in 
the  same  light.  His  first  view  is  always  poetical  and  vig- 
orous, as,  for  example,  in  his  Spirit  of  Hebrew  Poetry,  a  work 
that  gave  a  new  impulse  to  the  study  of  the  Old  Testament. 

But  we  have  only  half  sketched  Herder's  theological 
character  if  we  find  in  him  merely  the  acute  interpreter  of 
Old  Testament  symbols,  or  the  eloquent  defender  of  the 
oldest  revelations.  It  is  incumbent  upon  us,  first  of  all,  to 
become  acquainted  with  his  Christian  convictions,  his  decided 
position  in  reference  to  the  evangelical  Protestant  church, 
and  its  doctrines,  institutions,  and  entire  historical  develop- 
ment. Herder  has  written  no  system  of  Christian  doctrine,1 
and  has  only  explained  single  books  of  the  New  Testament, 
and  these  the  brief  Epistles  of  James  and  Jude,  the  brothers 
of  Jesus.  High  as  his  opinion  was  of  Paul  and  his  doctrines, 
he  has  almost  left  untouched  the  great  treasure  of  his  Epistles, 
which  he  considered  the  real  doctrinal  foundation  and  essence 
of  evangelical  truth.  He  saw  more  clearly  than  many  of  his 
times  that  Christ  himself  is  the  center  of  Christianity, — not 
his  doctrines  merely,  but  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ,  whose 
living  image  he  strove  to  impress  upon  the  souls  of  his 
hearers  and  readers  just  as  he  bore  it  about  in  his  own 
heart.2 

1  Such  a  work,  however,  was  afterward  selected  from  his  writings, 
bearing  the  title  of  Herder's  Dogmatih.   Jena,  1805. 

2  "The  kingdom  of  heaven,"  says  he,  in  his  aforenamed  Weimar 
Installation  Sermon,  "Christ's  feast,  should  not  be  a  mere  word  and 


HERDER  ON  JOHN'S  GOSPEL. 


45 


But  yet  Herder  here  pursued  his  own  course.  He  was 
bitterly  opposed  to  all  the  controversies  of  the  schools  con- 
cerning the  divine  and  human  nature  of  the  Savior,  and  their 
union  in  him;  because  he  believed  the  death  of  all  religion 
lay  in  these  technical  definitions.  But  he  was  fully  convinced 
that  Christ  was  both  human  and  divine,  and  that  these  qual- 
ities were  united, perfectly  united,  in  his  person.  His  two  works, 
On  the  Savior  of  Men  according  to  the  First  Three  Gospels, 
and  On  the  Son  of  God,  the  Savior  of  the  World,  according 
to  John,  may  be  thus  comprehended:  In  the  former,  Christ 
appears  more  as  the  Son  of  man,  the  teacher  and  the  prophet; 
in  the  latter,  we  find  him  to  be  the  incarnate  Word  of  God, 
or  flesh  become  Logos.  As  there  were  those  who  made 
Jesus  only  a  popular  teacher,  and,  taking  exception  at  the 
Gospel  of  John,  regarded  it  contemptuously  as  a  mine  of 
mysticism,  Herder  thus  indignantly  opposes  them:  "This  little 
book  is  a  deep,  still  sea,  in  which  the  heavens  are  reflected, 
with  the  sun  and  stars;  and  if  there  are  any  eternal  truths 
for  the  human  race, — and  there  are  such, — then  you  will 
find  them  in  John." 

He  did  not  shudder  at  the  depth  of  Christian  mystery  as 
soon  as  his  prophetic  spirit  prompted  him  to  look  down  into 
it;  but  he  did  not  set  about  the  work  with  that  vain  pre- 
tension of  human  sophistry  which  seizes  upon  holy  things 
with  rough  and  unskillful  hands.  And  here  again  his  orient- 
alism was  beneficial  to  him.  He  sought  to  elucidate  the 
mystical  method  of  expression  as  found  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment, and  its  entire  system  of  symbols,  by  the  newly-dis- 
covered oriental  source  of  the  doctrines  of  Zoroaster.  But 
he  did  not  confine  himself  to  the  symbols;  he  penetrated  to 

sign,  but  a  fact  and  a  truth.  We  should  taste  and  see  what  joys  God 
has  prepared  for  us  in  Jesus  Christ,  in  the  participation  of  his  nature, 
and  in  his  feast  of  glorious  equality.  In  every  event  and  fortune  of 
life  we  should  feel  that  we  are  brothers  at  one  table,  and  that  at  the 
festive  meal  of  our  Beloved  we  can  rest  in  the  will  and  love  of  the 
great  King  of  the  world  as  in  the  bosom  of  our  Father.  The  lofty, 
quiet  joy  of  Jesus,  and  the  spirit  which  lives  in  the  everlasting  heaven, 
should  speak  through  as,  pass  over  to  others,  and  silently  testify 
of  us." 


46 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


the  very  essence,  contents,  and  facts  underlying  the  figurative 
surface.  "It  is  very  clear  from  the  New  Testament,"  said 
he,  "that  Christ  must  be  viewed  as  the  first  living  fountain 
of  the  world's  purification,  freedom,  and  happiness.  There 
must  be  no  such  qualification  as  as  it  ivere,  or  it  was  only  on 
this  wise,  but  the  fact  must  be  embraced  in  its  most  active 
character." 1 

As  Herder  elsewhere  expressed  his  opinion  that  the  Bible 
must  be  read  humanly,  so  did  he  love  to  lay  stress  upon 
Christ's  humanity  and  divinity  as  manifested  in  his  human 
relations  and  circumstances.  He  everywhere  directs  attention 
to  the  fine  and  tender  features  of  Christ's  character  as  seen 
in  the  Gospels,  and  thus  the  divine  speaks  through  the  human. 
As  Jesus  was  to  him  the  revealer  and  representative  of 
humanity  among  men,  so  is  he  still  the  representative  of 
humanity,  though  it  is  likely  that  Herder  magnifies  the  ex- 
pression "  Son  of  man"  beyond  its  just  meaning.  If  we  look 
at  the  sum  of  what  he  wrote  concerning  Christ,  perhaps  he 
gives  preponderance  to  the  human  side  of  his  character, 
which  sometimes  passes  quite  over  into  the  cosmopolitan. 
It  may  appear  strange  that  Herder  should  often  say  that 
Christianity  would  continue  if  the  name  of  its  Founder  were 
to  disappear.  Possibly  the  fruit  would  be  enjoyed  long  after 
the  tree  had  ceased  to  stand  upon  its  roots.  But  there  is 
a  difference  between  dwelling  beneath  the  shade  of  the  tree, 
or  even  feeling  that  one  is  a  branch  of  it  and  imbibes  its 
strengthening  sap,  and  receiving  the  fruit  only  at  third  hand. 
Herder  must  have  known  and  felt  this  himself. 

But  why  should  we  disguise  a  fact  which  every  considerate 
and  impartial  reader  of  Herder's  works  must  perceive, — 
that  their  author  descended  in  his  later  theoretical  labors, 
particularly  in  those  inscribed  Christian  Writings,  from  that 
lofty  height  of  ecstatic  contemplation  where  we  find  him  in 
his  youthful  productions,  and  that  he  approached  the  flat 
territory  of  a  level  and  dull  method  of  treatment,  though 
without  becoming  flat  himself.  Every  one  who  reads  this  writer 
attentively,  and  does  not  blindly  follow  him,  will  inevitably 

1  Erläuterungen,  p.  66. 


herder's  distinction  between  dogmas  and  religion.  17 

find  himself  compelled  to  refute  Herder  by  Herder  himself. 
Therefore,  with  all  possible  love  and  respect  for  him,  as 
Gervinus  has  truthfully  said  in  his  National  Literature  of  the 
Germans,1  no  one  can  be  his  friend  without  sometimes  being 
his  enemy.  This  has  been  the  case  with  some  of  his  most 
intimate  friends,  as  with  Hamann,  who  charged  him  with 
apostasy  to  his  early  principles.  But  we  are  as  little  disposed 
to  agree  with  Niebuhr,  that  Herder  ceased  to  be  religious,  as 
with  Gervinus,  who  describes  this  period  of  coldness  as  the 
most  brilliant  part  of  his  life.  We  are  much  more  inclined 
to  coincide  with  the  publisher  of  Herder's  works,  J.  G.  Müller, 
who  says  in  the  Preface  to  the  Christian  Writings:  "The 
spirit  with  which  they  have  been  written  is  pure,  frank, 
eloquent,  noble,  respectful  to  every  thing  holy,  and,  in  this 
respect,  really  Christian.  Here,  as  everywhere  else,  Herder 
does  not  play  the  hypocrite.  Christianity  was  to  him  a  matter 
of  the  heart  from  his  earliest  youth.  This  will  be  felt  by 
every  reader  of  his  works  who  has  an  ear  for  the  language 
of  the  heart  and  of  conviction.  God's  love  and  truth  are  the 
spirit  of  Christianity;  and  whoever  possesses  these,  does  not 
materially  suffer  if  occasionally  his  opinion  does  not  harmonize 
with  the  truth  in  less  important  matters.  Who  has  done 
this  in  all  cases?" 

But  in  our  estimate  of  Herder  it  is  important  to  bear  in 
mind  what  is  apt  to  be  overlooked  to  a  certain  degree,  amid 
the  changes  and  shades  of  his  opinions :  that  he  did  not  con- 
sider the  essence  of  religion  as  doctrinal  opinions,  but  sepa- 
rated them  from  it.  While  others  made  it  a  matter  of  the 
head  for  empty,  outward  show  and  use,  he  made  it  an  affair 
of  the  heart  alone.  "Dogmas,"  said  he,  "separate  and  em- 
bitter, but  religion  unites.  Words  and  syllables  are  deified; 
the  intoxication  lasts  awhile,  then  it  subsides,  and  nothing 
remains  but  the  sharp  scaffolding.  But  religion  is  a  living 
fountain;  you  may  dam  it  up  and  choke  it,  but  it  will  break 
forth  once  more  from  its  depths,  again  purifying,  strengthening, 
and  vitalizing  itself."  Herder  perceived,  before  the  truth 
was  fully  established  by  Jacobi  and  Schleiermacher,  that 

1  Vol.  IV.  p.  466.    Comp.  Vol.  V.  p.  328. 


43 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


"  religion  is  a  matter  of  the  soul,  of  the  inmost  consciousness, 
and  is  the  boundary  of  a  man's  opinions,  .  .  .  the  most  careful 
conscientiousness  of  his  inner  knowledge,  the  altar  of  his  soul." 

We  would  not  delay  to  examine  Herder's  single  opinions, 
or  to  find  out  where  they  seem  to  harmonize  or  disagree. 
He  was  not  a  scholastic  dogmatist,  and  he  would  not  be  one, 
however  highly  he  prized  the  scientific  worth  of  correct  defi- 
nitions, in  their  place.  Character  was  more  highly  prized 
by  him  than  knowledge,  and  it  was  the  same  to  him  in  the 
plain  man  as  in  the  learned,  and  in  the  Christian  as  in  the 
theologian.  "I  think,"  said  he,  "that  our  existence  depends 
mostly  upon  character,  not  upon  accumulated  knowledge  and 
sciences.  These  are  only  brightly-polished  instruments  which 
are  capable  of  accomplishing  much  good,  but  also  much  that 
is  useless  and  injurious.  It  depends  upon  the  hand  that  uses 
them.  It  matters  but  little,  for  example,  whether  I  accept  a 
moral  truth  symbolically  or  in  a  general  formulary;  it  is 
enough  if  I  accept  and  follow  it  as  a  living  verity."1 

We  would  now  enter  upon  a  closer  examination  of  Herder's 
theological  character,  while  we  see  him  engaged  in  his  prac- 
tical, theological  career  as  a  preacher,  pastor,  church-manager, 
and  educator.  Certainly  no  one  has  ever  called  him  a 
Pietist.  But  in  common  with  true  Pietism  and  its  founder, 
Spener,  and,  in  a  broader  sense,  with  Luther  and  the  Reform- 
ers, he  required  of  the  minister  more  than  a  mere  scientific 
and  learned  inclination  or  a  speculative  adjustment,  because 
with  him,  piety,  Christian  piety,  nurtured  by  the  Bible,  was 
the  soul  of  theology.  "A  theologian,"  says  Herder,  "should 
have  been  well  trained,  and,  from  childhood,  have  studied  the 
Holy  Scriptures  as  teaching  practical  religion.  He  should 
have  been  early  impressed  by  the  example  of  devout  and 
industrious  parents ;  and,  just  as  Timothy,  should  have  striven 
to  become  a  man  of  God,  thoroughly  furnished  unto  every 
good  word  and  work.  Vulgar,  coarse,  and  barbarous  manners, 
the  low  aims  of  avarice,  pride,  laziness,  and  other  sins  for 
which  theology  is  sometimes  chosen,  are  as  injurious  to  the 
learning  and  understanding  as  to  the  feeling  and  application 

*  Werke  zur  Philosophie,  Vol.  VII.  p.  194. 


herder's  views  on  the  ministerial  office.  49 

of  truth.  No  ray  of  light  can  shine  through  an  impure, 
hard,  earthly  vessel;  much  less  can  it  become  a  reflector  of 
light  for  others."1 

"Let  prayer  and  the  reading  of  the  Bible,1'  Herder  counsels 
a  young  theologian,  "be  thy  daily  morning  and  evening  food." 
"The  perception  of  God  and  divine  things  is  the  true  study 
of  theology.  ...  A  peaceful  ardor,  a  heart  that  is  warm, 
innocent,  modest,  and  throbs  with  high  and  noble  impulses," 
was  what  he  prized  above  all  things  in  young  men  who  dedi- 
cated themselves  to  the  ministry.2  And  how  high  and  noble 
was  this  office  in  his  estimation!  I  have  mentioned  in  my 
earlier  lectures  that  the  tendency  of  the  times  was  to  make 
everything  practically  useful,  and  how  even  the  pious  and 
well-meaning  Spalding,  promoted  it  in  his  work  on  the  Use- 
fulness of  the  Ministerial  Office.3  Herder  entertained  a  high 
personal  opinion  of  the  author,  and  never  directly  opposed 
the  book  itself.  But  it  caused  him  to  combat  vigorously  all 
depreciating  views  of  the  ministerial  calling.  He  did  this  in 
his  Provincial  Letters.  The  patriarchs  of  the  Old  Testament, 
the  priests  and  prophets,  Christ  and  the  Apostles,  were, 
according  to  him,  lofty  historical  archetypes  for  all  ages, 
whom  the  humblest  preacher  of  the  Word  must  take  as 
examples.  He  should  strive  to  imitate  them,  and  not  submit 
so  willingly  to  the  demands  of  an  effeminate  age,  which  tends 
to  secularize  all  things. 

Such  were  Herder's  opinions  on  the  mission  of  the  minis- 
terial calling.  With  him,  the  office  of  the  ministry  is  the 
office  of  God,  and  theology  is  the  deepest  root  of  all  true 
wisdom.  That  preachers  should  only  be  teachers  of  wisdom 
and  virtue,  as  the  spirit  of  those  times  asserted,  was  a  re- 
pugnant idea  to  Herder.  "  Why,"  he  asks,  "  do  you  not 
descend  from  your  pulpits,  which  are  so  many  unprofitable 
professors'  chairs?  .  .  .  What  is  the  use  of  these  Gothic 
edifices,  altars,  and  other  things  ?    No !  Religion,  true  religion 

1  Anwendung  dreier  akademischer  Lehrjahre.  Werke  zur  Bei.  und  TheoL, 
Vol.  X.  p.  162.   Comp.  p.  174. 

2  Briefe  an  Theophron.    Werke  zur  Phil  u.  Theol.  Vol.  X.  pp.  210,  214. 

3  See  Vorlesungen,  Vol.  I.  p.  361.   2nd  Ed. 


50 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


must  return,  or  a  preacher  will  remain  the  most  indefinite 
and  idlest  thing  on  earth.  .  .  .  Teachers  of  religion;  true 
servants  of  the  words  of  God!  What  have  you  to  do  in  our 
century?  The  harvest  is  great,  but  the  laborers  are  few. 
Pray  the  Lord  of  the  harvest  that  he  will  send  out  laborers, 
who  shall  be  something  besides  teachers  of  wisdom  and  virtue. 
And  what  is  still  more,  help  yourselves ! "  .  .  .  "But  in  order 
to  be  assisted,"  continues  the  animated  speaker,  "  the  revelation 
of  God  as  found  in  the  Bible,  and  even  in  the  entire  history 
of  the  human  race,  must  be  believed,  and  thus  ever  return 
to  the  great  center  about  which  every  thing  revolves  and 
clusters — Jesus  Christ,  the  corner-stone  and  inheritance,  the 
greatest  messenger,  teacher  and  person  of  the  Archetype. 
From  his  very  nature  he  is  the  corner-stone  of  salvation,  in  whom 
we  would  include  every  thing  that  can  save  the  world."  While 
the  tendency  of  the  times  would  sunder  religious  instruction 
from  history,  and  regard  the  latter  only  as  a  collection  of 
moral  examples,  Herder  was  very  earnest  in  urging  that  the 
history  of  religion  is  the  basis  of  religious  education,  upon 
which  everything  must  be  built.  It  was  from  the  living  germs 
of  historical  facts  that  God's  beautiful  growth  revealed  itself 
to  him;  its  soil  is  revelation,  its  secret  nourishment  and 
strength  are  faith.  The  elucidation  of  the  Bible  should  there- 
fore be  the  preacher's  chief  employment,  and  not  the  bare 
preaching  of  morality  and  argument.  "  If  morality,"  said  he, 
"becomes  the  great  business  of  the  preacher,  and  the  Bible 
and  words  of  Jesus  are  only  quoted  to  prove  that  they  come 
from  God  as  all  truth  proceeds  from  him,  then  farewell  to 
Christianity,  religion,  and  revelation.  The  names  become 
courtly  masks,  and  that  is  about  all."  He  expressed  the 
opinion  that,  if  this  were  the  case,  the  preacher  might  as 
well  preach  from  Seneca  and  Epictetus  as  from  the  Bible. 

But  Herder  totally  disapproved  of  the  common  opinion,  that 
spiritual  eloquence  should  be  shaped  after  worldly,  heathen 
models,  such  as  Demosthenes  and  Cicero,  who  dealt  with 
very  different  themes,  were  heard  by  altogether  different 
auditors,  and  aimed  at  quite  another  object.  He  therefore 
rejected  all  those  theories  of  pulpit-eloquence  which  began  to 


herder's  preaching. 


51 


abound  in  the  contemporary  literature,  and  was  a  pitiful  resort 
of  the  times.  In  preaching,  he  kept  aloof  from  all  unmeaning 
artificial  ornament,  and  adhered  to  the  plain,  ancient  method  of 
the  Bible,  which  was  the  homily.  From  the  testimony  of  those 
who  saw  and  heard  him,  his  appearance  in  the  pulpit  must 
have  been  very  imposing,  although  he  did  not  rely  at  all  on 
the  outward  manner,  but,  on  the  contrary,  seemed  almost 
without  emotion.  But  the  impressiveness  of  his  voice  was  great. 

Let  us  hear  a  candid  witness  on  this  point.  A  witty 
writer  of  that  time,  Helfrich  Peter  Sturz,  who  had  but  little 
sympathy  with  Herder's  writings,  records  the  following  in  a 
letter:  "I  have  heard  Herder  preach  in  Piermont,  and  I 
wish  that  all  good  Christians,  who  take  the  advice  of  their 
leaders  in  hating  him  in  so  orthodox  a  style,  had  heard  him 
too.  Our  aristocratic  congregation  was  not  distinguished 
for  the  devotional  spirit  of  the  early  church;  and  yet  you 
should  have  seen  how,  in  a  few  minutes,  he  chained  all  the 
flutter  of  diversion,  curiosity,  and  frivolity  to  the  stillness  of 
a  Moravian  assembly.  All  hearts  were  opened;  every  eye 
hung  upon  him  and  rejoiced  in  unwonted  tears;  only  the  sighs 
of  deep  feeling  could  be  heard  through  the  entire  congregation. 
My  dear  friend,  no  one  preaches  as  he  does,  or  religion 
would  be  to  all  what  it  really  is, — the  most  trusty  and 
valuable  friend  of  man.  In  reading  the  Gospel  of  the  day 
he  became  ecstatic,  though  without  extravagance,  and  with 
that  clear  and  lofty  simplicity  which  needs  no  figures  or  arts 
of  the  schools  to  surpass  the  wisdom  of  the  world.  Nothing 
was  explained,  because  all  was  clear ;  there  was  no  indulgence 
in  theological  metaphysics,  which  teach  neither  how  to  live 
nor  how  to  die,  but  how  to  wrangle  more  successfully.  There 
was  no  strained  devotion,  no  prejudiced  attack  upon  hardened 
sinners,  or  anything  that  you  could  call  a  current  article 
from  the  pulpit-manufactory.  Nor  was  it  a  cold,  heathen 
moral  lecture,  which  seeks  nothing  but  Socrates  in  the  Bible, 
and  can  therefore  dispense  with  Christ  and  Scriptures.  But 
he  proclaimed  the  faith  of  love  first  announced  by  the  God 
of  love,  which  teaches  us  to  bear  all  things,  believe  all  things, 
and  hope  all  things;  and,  being  independent  of  all  the  joys 


52 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHUKCH. 


and  sorrows  of  the  world,  rewards  with  its  peculiar  rest  and 
contentment.  I  think  the  pupils  of  the  Apostles  used  to 
preach  thus,  who  were  not  lost  amid  their  dogmas,  and  there- 
fore did  not  play  with  theological  terms  as  children  with 
their  counting-straws.  You  know  how  much  I  differ  from 
Herder  the  author.  We  go  only  a  little  way  together,  and 
then  he  flies  from  me,  bright  and  quick  as  a  rocket.  But 
as  a  preacher  and  person,  he  is  a  man,  and  for  the  small 
journey  that  we  can  make  together,  he  is  one  of  my  most 
delightful  companions.11 

Herder  did  not  write  his  sermons  out  in  full,  but  only  made 
sketches;  and  from  them  we  derive  the  most  of  what  we  may 
call  his  sermons.  But  in  all  cases  his  sermons  are  very 
peculiar,  and  can  be  compared  with  no  others.  His  intentional 
shunning  of  pulpit-language  goes  so  far  that  he  introduces 
all  the  expressions  of  common  life  and  all  foreign  words  that 
can  be  used.  He  employs  the  language  of  daily  conversation, 
and  sometimes  gives  expression  to  satire.  Indeed,  this  goes 
so  far,  that,  while  reading  some  of  his  sermons,  we  can 
hardly  believe  they  could  have  been  delivered  as  sermons. 
If  you  would  read  them  aloud  for  the  edification  of  others, 
at  almost  every  moment  you  would  take  some  exception, 
though  they  are  excellent  if  read  alone.  His  pulpit-language 
is  so  individual,  and  so  united  with  his  person  and  the  re- 
lations in  which  he  labored,  that  it  can  by  no  means  be 
recommended  as  a  model.  But  Herder's  sermons  can  all  the 
more  be  commended  for  what  they  are  in  themselves;  they 
go  quite  above  what  goes  by  the  name  of  model-sermons,  for 
their  excellence  does  not  consist  in  regularity  or  method,  but 
in  being  so  original,  individual  and  characteristic  as  to  defy 
imitation.2 

1  Biographie,  Vol.  II.  pp.  254,  255.  Note. 

2  "Herder's  sermons,"  writes  William  von  Humboldt,  "were  very 
attractive.  Everybody  found  them  too  short,  and  wished  them  doubly 
long.  But  those  I  heard  were  not  really  edifying;  they  penetrated  the 
heart  but  little  (?).  Briefe  an  eine  Freundin,  Vol.  II.  p.  233. —  Comp, 
also  Schiller's  opinion,  in  the  Briefw.  mit  Körner,  Vol.  I.  p.  131. 
Berlin,  1847.  "Herder's  whole  sermon,"  he  says,  "was  like  a  conver- 
sation conducted  by  one  man  alone;  it  was  without  plan,  popular,  and 


herder's  views  on  public  worship. 


53 


Herder's  manner  of  preaching  harmonized  with  his  view  of 
public  services  generally,  and  in  this  sphere  his  reformatory 
spirit  was  very  effective.  Nothing  was  more  repugnant  to 
him  than  empty  forms  and  ceremonies,  however  beautifully 
surrounded  or  elegantly  trimmed  off.  He  says  in  one  of  his 
sermons:  "It  has  become  so  fearfully  common  among  men  to 
confound  worship  and  soul-sleep,  piety  and  indolence  of  thought, 
that  no  one  thinks  any  more  with  the  preacher,  but  allows 
all  his  thinking  to  be  done  by  the  Spirit  of  God."  He  was 
therefore  no  defender  of  anything  that  could  not  arouse  the 
thinking  powers  and  moral  activity  of  man,  and  only  awakened 
dull  and  dark  feelings.  What  he  loved  most  in  public  services 
was  simplicity,  truth,  clearness,  and  strength. 

However,  Herder  did  not  think  that  public  services  were 
a  mere  thinking  exercise  or  a  dry  moral  institution;  but  his 
poetic  feeling  here  directed  him  aright,  especially  in  refer- 
ence to  the  hymns  and  congregational  singing.  In  my  earlier 
lectures,  when  speaking  of  Paul  Gerhard  and  the  hymn- 
writers  of  the  seventeenth  century,  I  called  attention  to 
Herder's  opinion,  and  I  must  again  make  mention  of  it.1 
While  the  most  of  the  supposed  Rationalistic  theologians 
of  Herder's  day,  as  Spalding,  Zollikofer  and  Dietrich,  thought 
they  were  rendering  a  great  service  by  adapting  the  old 
hymns  as  well  as  possible  to  the  new  methods  of  thought 
and  language,  Herder  pursued  a  directly  opposite  course  in  the 

natural.  It  was  less  a  sermon  than  an  intelligent  conversation,  a 
statement  from  practical  philosophy,  connected  with  certain  details  of 
civil  life;  opinions  as  becoming  a  mosque  as  a  Christian  church  ('?). 
But  the  delivery  was  as  plain  as  the  matter,  —  no  pantomime,  no  play 
with  the  voice,  but  earnest  and  sober  expression.  He  is  unquestionably 
conscious  of  his  capacity.  Herder's  sermon  has  pleased  me  better  than 
any  other  I  have  ever  heard;  but  I  must  frankly  confess  that  no  ser- 
mon pleases  me  in  all  respects."  (Here  falls  to  the  ground  a  good 
part  of  the  critique.)  Schiller  subsequently  reproaches  Herder  for 
having  preached  upon  himself  after  his  Italian  tour,  and  for  having  a 
Te  Deum  sung  in  his  honor;  and  that  the  text,  prepared  by  himself, 
had  been  distributed  in  the  pews.  See  Briefio.,  Vol.  II.  p.  123.  We 
hope  that  this  belongs  to  the  aforementioned  gossip,  in  which  the  Weimar 
life  of  that  period  was  so  rich.  A  poor  wealth! 
2  See  Vorlesungen,  Part.  IV.  p.  167.   (2nd  Ed.) 


54 


HISTORY  OP  THE  CHURCH. 


preparation  of  the  Weimar  Hymn-Book  in  1778.  Whenever 
possible,  he  retained  the  old  hymns ;  he  even  purposely  returned 
to  the  old  and  correct  readings,  and  only  made  changes  when 
actually  necessary.    He  justifies  his  course  in  special  cases. 

"A  hymn  of  truth  and  the  heart,"  he  thus  expresses  his 
views  on  the  subject,  "just  as  all  of  Luther's  were,  is  no 
longer  the  same  after  another  hand  has  altered  it  at  will. 
What  a  change  would  come  over  our  face  if  every  passer-by 
could  cut,  pull,  and  change  it  at  pleasure.  Whoever  is 
acquainted  with  the  origin  of  these  hymns  and  the  history  of 
our  church,  need  not  be  informed  that  they  bear  the  real 
stamp  of  our  origin  and  of  the  purity  of  our  doctrine;  and 
no  veritable  and  worthy  descendant  would  give  away  the  in- 
herited seal  and  escutcheon  of  his  ancestors  for  a  picture 
picked  up  in  the  street,  however  beautifully  painted.  The 
doctrine,  word,  and  witness  of  the  church  of  God,  and  the 
strength  of  its  origin  and  of  the  first  healthy  blossom  of  its 
growth,  are  of  far  more  value  to  it  than  a  better  rhyme 
or  a  more  beautiful  but  feebler  verse.  No  Christian  congre- 
gation comes  together  to  exercise  itself  in  poetry,  but  to 
worship  God;  to  encourage  each  other  with  psalms  and 
songs  of  praise,  spiritual  and  lively  hymns;  to  sing  to  the 
Lord  from  the  heart.  Now  I  take  every  true  heart  and 
conscience  to  witness,  that  the  old  hymns  are  clearly  more 
suitable  for  such  a  purpose  than  those  which  are  lately 
changed,  or  others  altogether  new.  What  soul,  yea,  what  a 
whole  breast,  was  in  the  songs  of  Luther,  his  coadjutors,  and 
their  successors, — so  long  as  men  were  content  to  write 
genuine  church-hymns  and  not  fine  poetry.  Sprung  from  the 
heart,  they  go  directly  to  the  heart;  they  elevate,  console, 
teach  and  guide  it;  so  that  one  always  feels  that  he  is  in 
the  land  of  accepted  truth,  in  God's  church  in  a  free  place, 
far  removed  from  his  daily  thinking  and  secular  idleness. 
Being  joined  with  many  others  who  bow  in  union  with  us 
at  the  throne  of  grace,  and  inspired  with  the  same  confession, 
hope,  and  consolation,  we  feel  that  we  are  drawn  off  as  by  a 
current  into  another  world,  and  can  realize  what  it  is  to  say : 
kI  believe  in  a  Christian  church  and  eternal  life.' 


HERDER'S  DEFENCE  OF  THE  OLD  HYMNS.  55 

"In  all  hymns  that  do  not  afford  us  this  enlargement  and 
elevation,  and  do  not  pervade  us  with  the  immediate  feeling 
of  truth  and  the  voice  of  a  higher  world,  we  remain  just 
where  we  were  and  what  we  were.  And  with  all  their  good 
qualities,  they  are  not  church-hymns  if  we  have  better  ones. 
.  .  .  In  those  old  hymns  there  is  the  true  voice  of  solitude 
and  the  stillness  of  prayer  in  the  closet,  just  as  Christ  would 
have  it;  and  it  may  be  seen  from  every  line  that  only  con- 
scious need  and  solicitude  could  teach  the  writer  of  the  hymn 
to  pray  thus.  Such  hymns  enter  the  oppressed  heart,  and 
realize  the  truth  of  the  old  verse: 

"If,  in  my  need,  I  pray  and  sing, 
My  heart  becomes  a  right  good  thing} 
The  Spirit  tells  me  this  must  be 
The  foretaste  of  eternity." 

"Thus  many  a  weary  pilgrim  has  often  been  refreshed  by 
these  hymns  as  by  the  voice  of  God  and  of  the  true  witnesses 
of  former  ages.  They  are  present  in  his  memory,  in  his  very 
heart  and  thought;  and  in  the  hour  of  grief  the  very  line 
occurs  to  him  which  is  most  adapted  to  his  mental  state. 
Must  it  not  be  hard,  therefore,  to  change  hymns  of  this 
nature,  to  cut  away  living  pieces  from  the  memory  and  soul 
of  so  many  good  men?  It  pains  us  to  see  worldly  books, 
which  we  read  in  early  life,  and  which  have  grown  up  with 
us,  altered  into  new  editions;  because  it  is  as  if  somebody 
had  given  us  something  and  taken  it  away  again,  for  the 
very  purpose  of  grossly  deceiving  us.  But  it  grieves  us  far 
more  when  these  changes  rob  us  of  our  first  child-like  im- 
pressions of  religion.  What  is  good  must  always  be  good; 
gold  must  ever  remain  gold.  If  all  art  is  inferior  to  high 
and  noble  nature,  how  much  more  inferior  must  it  be  to  the 
highest  and  noblest  nature, — the  religion  of  God!  Such  hymns 
were  the  friends  of  our  sweetest  years,  the  companions  of 
our  life,  the  joy  of  our  home,  and  our  most  trusty  comforters 
in  need.  He  who  robs  us  of  them  is  an  enemy;  or  who,  with 
every  line  that  was  once  such  a  blessing  to  us,  and  which  we 
no  more  find,  lays  on  us  the  whip-lash. 


5G  HISTORY  OF   THE  CHURCH. 

"  And  those  for  whom  these  hymns  have  been  changed  are 
generally  but  little  impressed  by  them.  They  sing  with  inner 
loathing  or  coldness,  because  they  live  in  another  world ;  but 
shall  the  children  be  denied  bread  on  their  account?  I  hold, 
therefore,  that  every  country  and  province  is  fortunate  which 
still  enjoys  its  old  form  of  service,  and  its  old  hymn-book, 
and  whose  congregations  are  not  mangled  every  week-day 
and  Sunday  with  improvements.  The  hymns  of  our  church 
bear  the  witness  of  their  worth  in  themselves;  namely,  the 
great  impressions  they  have  produced  and  the  splendid  achieve- 
ments they  have  wrought.  .  .  .  But  the  best  way  to  return 
our  thanks  is  to  restore  the  old  times  and  the  old  spirit  to 
our  homes  and  churches,  when  there  was  an  ardent  and 
devout  attachment  to  the  old  hymns,  and  when  no  head  of 
a  family  commenced  or  closed  the  day  without  the  beautiful 
united  singing  of  his  household  circle.  Though  Luther  calls 
the  Old  Testament  a  dull  and  sorrowful  Testament,  but  the 
New, — which  elevates  us  by  its  songs  of  praise, — a  joyous 
one,  we  should  nevertheless  know  how  to  go  back  from  the 
New  and  joyous  into  the  Old,  for  the  voice  of  spiritual  song 
is  getting  feebler  every  year,  and  is  constantly  sinking  into 
silence.  May  God  bring  back  again  to  us  those  hearty,  glad- 
some days  of  the  social  singing  of  praises  to  God ! " 

However,  Herder  was  no  blind  and  partial  worshipper  of 
old  hymns.  He  admitted  that  single  annoying  expressions 
and  asperities  of  language  should  be  changed,  though  care- 
fully, imperceptibly,  and  mildly.  He  did  not  praise  the  old 
simply  because  it  was  old;  and  though  he  paid  a  tribute  to 
it  on  the  publication  of  the  first  edition  of  the  Weimar 
Hymn-Book,  1778,  he  yet  gave,  in  the  edition  of  1795,  an 
admonition  against  its  abuse.  He  remembered  that  many  of 
those  hymns  which  had  been  composed  amid  the  calamities  of 
religious  conflicts  and  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  do  not  find 
us  in  the  same  mental  posture,  and  that  we  should  even  err 
it  we  affected  a  state  foreign  to  us.  Herder  says:  "It  was 
from  a  holy  zeal  that  many  people  of  the  olden  time  dealt 
in  hymn-writing  who  were  not  naturally  adapted  to  it.  So 
soon  as  they  could  put  syllables  into  rhyme,  and  play  de- 


herder's  admonition  on  the  old  hymns.  57 

voutly  with  the  mysteries  of  religion,  or  with  the  cross  and 
passion,  or  with  some  Biblical  maxim,  and  thus  give  pathetic 
expression  to  their  well-intended  and  heart-felt  experiences, 
their  hymns  were  caught  up  with  applause  by  the  people. 
Just  here  must  every  preacher  carefully  guard  and  inform  his 
hearers  concerning  occasional  variations  of  these  old  hymns 
from  the  true  sense  of  the  divine  Word ;  for  example,  that  it 
is  not  piety  to  play  upon  the  name  of  "Little  Jesus,"  or  any 
other  appellation  of  the  exalted  Savior,  or  upon  his  manger 
and  swaddling-clothes,  or  his  blood,  stripes  and  wounds;  that 
the  faulty  exaggerations  of  penitence  as  derived  from  the 
words  of  some  ill-understood  Psalms  are  as  unevangelical  as 
they  are  untrue  when  they  are  sung  by  a  rough  and  jovial 
crowd;  that,  instead  of  groaning  and  complaining  about  the 
persecution  of  our  enemies,  our  crosses  and  sufferings,  we 
should  pardon  our  foes  in  silent  compassion,  and  be  careful 
not  to  bring  crosses  and  sufferings  upon  ourselves  unneces- 
sarily and  improvidently ;  and,  finally,  that  all  abuse  of  this 
earthly  life  and  all  grumbling  sighs  over  it,  are  mainly  hypo- 
crisy, the  empty  sound  of  words,  and  positive  sinfulness.  For 
God  has  placed  us  here,  and  we  must  await  his  bidding 
to  call  us  away  from  life.  Every  teacher  must  warn  his 
auditors  against  these  and  other  abuses  of  hymns.  He  must 
show  that  such  expressions  were  true,  or  at  least  pardonable, 
at  other  times  and  under  other  circumstances,  but  that  there 
is  now  hardly  one  in  a  hundred  who  can  sing  them  truthfully, 
or  to  whom  the  public  and  private  singing  of  Christians  has 
but  little  more  force  than  empty  sounds.  To  prove  the 
matter,  compare  such  hymns  with  the  honest  and  heart-felt 
hymns  of  Luther,  or  with  the  words  and  explicit  directions 
of  Christ  and  his  Apostles." 

Herder  would  thus  unite  the  two;  he  would  combine  what 
is  good  and  substantial  in  the  old  church-hymns  with  a  proper 
discretion  and  necessary  caution  in  their  use.  He  expresses 
himself  on  both  points  so  decidedly  that  one  can  very  easily 
believe  what  we  have  already  intimated, — that  we  must  often 
answer  Herder  by  Herder  himself.  And  most  assuredly,  we 
have  heard  in  one  place  the  Herder  of  1778,  and  in  the  other 


58 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


the  Herder  of  1795.  There  is  a  very  decided  difference  of 
purpose,  but  no  contradiction  of  principles.  When  we  are 
dealing  with  this  matter  of  hymns,  is  it  not  best  to  unite  a 
proper  respect  for  the  purest  of  our  good  old  hymns  with 
that  discreet  perception  and  taste  which  can  separate  the 
gold  from  the  dross?  And  if  the  early  stage  of  the  period 
of  illuminism  was  defective  because  it  ignored  this  gold,  it  is 
the  duty  of  our  age,  which  very  rightly  digs  after  it,  to  bear  in 
mind  that  it  is  not  all  gold  that  glitters,  and  that  not  every- 
thing is  to  be  treasured  simply  because  it  sounds  old  and 
almost  forgotten.  With  all  the  richness  of  the  old  hymns, 
Herder  knew  how  to  prize  the  new.  He  perceived  that  our 
times  demanded  those  hymns  in  which  the  newly- awakened 
consciousness  expresses  itself  naturally,  in  a  method  suited  to 
the  times,  and  not  affecting  antiquity.1 

And  to  this  purpose  he  contributed  his  share.  Few  of  his 
poems,  it  must  be  confessed,  have  been  appropriated  to 
ecclesiastical  use;  and  among  them  there  are  but  few  hymns 
which  the  congregation  can  sing.  They  are  mostly  cantos,  or 
hymns  and  poems  in  a  bolder  form.  Herder  did  not  always 
strike  the  real  tone  of  the  church-hymn,  for  he  lived  in  an 
age  foreign  to  it.  He  would  not  imitate,  and  the  most  gifted 
can  not  produce  what  he  is  not  aided  in  doing  by  his  own 
times.  But  he  succeeded  very  well  in  some  transformations  of 
old  hymns,  and  we  will  close  our  present  observations  with 
his  hymn  on  "Jesus,"  from  Valentine  Andreä,  which  once  more 
calls  to  mind  his  inmost  convictions  concerning  Christ: 

"Greetings  to  Thee,  loveliest  Flower, 
Thou  Flower  of  all  mankind! 
To  Thee  all  the  good  ever  flee, 
And  in  Thee  ever  find, 
God's  grace  and  heaven's  glory! 
To  Thee  I  go;  would  I  had  earlier  gone, 
Then  had  I  sweet  peace  in  life's  early  dawn. 

Long  have  I  vainly  gone  astray, 
And  falsely  sought  for  rest; 

*  Even  the  extremely  sensitive  Wm.  von  Humboldt  coincides  with  these 
sentiments  on  hymns.   Comp.  Briefe  an  eine  Freundin,   Vol.  II.  p.  262. 


herder's  version  op  Andrea's  hymn  on  jesus.  50 

With  tearful  eyes  I  see  myself, 

With  sorrow  in  my  breast. 

I'm  filled  with  pain  and  anguish, 

Because,  0  Blessed  One,  I  sought  Thee  not; 

And  thus  myself  I  therefore  seldom  sought. 

How  could  I  gain,  without  Thine  aid, 

Best  for  a  weary  mind? 

With  troubled  soul  and  burdened  breast, 

But  broken  cisterns  could  I  find. 

Men  never  get  any  thanksgivings 

For  having  cast  away  their  precious  souls, 

So  long,  so  long  as  eternity  rolls. 

I  said:  'To  Nature  I  will  go 

For  there  is  God  made  known; 

Among  the  flowers  I  will  find 

The  God  of  flowers  shown;' 

And  looking  about,  I  ever  said: 

*  Father  in  heaven,  now  be  Thy  name  revealed; 

Here  be  the  grandeur  of  the  truth  unsealed  1* 

Every  where  I  saw  the  proofs 

That  He  was  near  at  hand; 

I  read  Him  in  the  vale  and  cliff, 

In  every  grain  of  sand; 

I  viewed  on  every  side  the  traces 

Of  His  presence.   Hast  thou  his  power  reviewed, 

And  with  His  presence  is  thy  soul  imbued? 

Greetings  to  Thee  loveliest  Flower, 

Of  God  the  great  impress! 

Around  Thee,  lilies  and  roses 

Shine,  clad  in  their  beautiful  dress;  — 

And  Thy  wreath  of  thorns  is  all  glorious. 

Why  should  I  still  wander  in  fear, 

Since  God,  whom  I  sought,  is  ever  so  near? 

Come,  each  one  burdened  and  weary! 

Thee  he  welcomes  as  His  guest; 

To  thee  He  will  give  sweet  innocence, 

Love,  joy,  and  happy  rest. 

No  worthy  boon  will  He  withhold; 

The  rest  of  God  wilt  thou  ever  receive; 

God  in  Man!  Give  that  offering,  and  Live!" 


Vol.  II.— 5 


LECTURE  IV* 


HEEDER'S  POSITION  TOWARD  PROTESTANTISM.  —  HIS  CONSER- 
VATIVE TENDENCY.  —  STRICT  VIEWS  ON  CHURCH  DISCIPLINE 
AND  THE  FREEDOM  OF  THE  PRESS.  —  HIS  POSITION  TOWARD 
PHILOSOPHY. —  IMMANUEL  KANT  AND  THE  "CRITIQUE  OF 
PURE  REASON."  —  THE  RELATION  OF  THIS  PHILOSOPHY  TO 
CHRISTIANITY. —  RAPID  INCREASE  OF  KANTIANISM. 

Although  we  have  employed  more  than  two  lectures  upon 
Herder, — much  of  whose  portrait  yet  remains  to  be  viewed, — 
we  must  dwell  a  few  moments  longer  upon  him  in  the  present 
connection.  Indeed,  it  is  only  after  Herder's  character  has 
been  portrayed  that  we  are  enabled  to  understand  his  place 
in  the  historical  development  of  evangelical  Protestantism, 
and  can  answer  the  question:  What  link  was  he  in  the  chain 
of  this  development?  We  have  already  seen  that  Protest- 
antism is  the  spirit  which  contends  for  progress  and  greater 
freedom  and  clearness,  and  courageously  pursues  this,  its 
own  course,  in  spite  of  all  the  animosity  and  jealousy  of 
ignorance;  but  in  the  very  midst  of  this  progress  it  always 
looks  about  with  great  care  for  the  safe  ground  once  laid. 
It  does  not  take  pleasure  in  wild  protestation,  but  greatly 
prefers  to  cultivate  and  develop  rather  than  destroy;  and  for 
this  reason  it  prudently  opposes,  as  far  as  it  can,  all  stormy 
and  violent  reform  and  revolution.  This  being  the  nature  of 
Protestantism  in  general,  we  have  in  Herder  the  picture  of 
a  true  Protestant,  —  a  man  who  was  perfectly  adapted  to  the 
century  in  which  he  lived.  We  find  him  to  be  at  once  a 
man  of  progress  and  conservatism,  of  the  new  and  of  the 


herder's  position  toward  protestantism.  Gl 

old  time,  as  far  as  he  could  bring  forth  the  new  and  old 
from  his  treasury,  and  unite  them  spiritually.  But  this  must 
have  been  very  apparent  from  our  account  of  his  theological 
system,  and  of  his  theological  feeling  and  labors,  as  given  in 
the  last  lecture. 

Herder  is  strictly  othodox  in  opposition  to  the  innovators 
and  illuminists,  while  he  is  a  bold  innovator  in  opposition  to 
the  rigidly  orthodox.  Vulgar  Rationalism  makes  him  a  mystical 
Supernaturalist,  and  vulgar  Supernaturalism  declares  him  to 
be  a  dangerous  Rationalist,  against  whom  we  cannot  be  too 
much  on  our  guard.  Thus  it  is,  and  so  must  it  always  be, 
wherever  a  truly  reformatory  mind  lives  and  operates.  Such 
was  the  case  with  Luther,  who  seemed  to  the  pope  to  be  a 
rebel,  an  enemy  of  peace  and  order;  but  to  the  rebels 
he  appeared  to  be  the  flatterer  of  royalty  and  a  religious 
despot.  There  will  always  be  people  to  whom  true  Protest- 
antism will  appear  too  broad,  and  others  to  whom  it  will 
seem  too  narrow.  Therefore,  to  charge  it  with  an  incomplete- 
ness devoid  of  principle  would  be  extremely  unjust.  The  true 
medium  to  which  Protestantism,  and  even  Herder,  in  his  com- 
plete character,  belongs,  is  distinguished  from  the  false  medium, 
which  often  terms  itself  pure  and  right,  by  this  unfailing 
mark:  The  true  medium  never  vacillates,  without  principle  or 
character,  between  the  extremes,  but  occupies  a  solid,  self- 
conscious  place  above  them;  it  neither  turns  to  the  right 
nor  to  the  left;  and  does  not  harshly  and  inflexibly  repel 
every  accommodation,  but  yields  where  it  is  proper,  in 
order  that  it  may  cling  to  what  is  invaluable  with  death- 
like tenacity.  It  knows  full  well,  however,  what  it  does,  and 
despite  all  its  apparent  deviation  in  this  or  that  direction, 
never  once  loses  its  equilibrium  or  its  purpose. 

If  we  would  have  a  clearer  estimate  of  Herder's  Protest- 
ant sentiment,  we  must  regard  him  somewhat  longer  in  the 
practical  sphere  where  we  left  him  in  the  last  lecture.  We 
became  acquainted  with  him  as  a  preacher  and  religious  poet 
and,  at  the  conclusion,  gave  his  views  on  church-hymns.  It 
is  just  at  this  last  point  that  his  real  Protestant  sentiment 
revealed  itself.    On  the  one  side  was  his  Lutheran  heart, 


r>2 


HISTORY  OP  THE  CHURCH. 


which  felt  inwardly  grown  together  with  the  roots  of  Protest- 
antism, was  in  union  with  the  vital  nerves  of  the  Reformation, 
and  would  not  permit  the  treasure  of  ancestral  faith  to  be 
torn  away  by  any  wind  of  fashion  or  prevailing  taste.  On 
the  other  side  was  his  broad,  open,  considerate  and  unper- 
verted  vision,  which  knew  as  well  how  to  detect  errors  in  the 
past  as  good  qualities  in  the  present,  and  for  this  reason 
would  acknowledge  no  limit  to  the  productiveness  of  the 
Christian  life  and  mind,  but  always  anticipated  and  waited 
for  greater  progress  in  the  distant  future — indeed,  it  aided  in 
bringing  it  to  pass.  But  we  have  not  exhausted  Herder's  entire 
practical  efficiency  in  describing  him  as  a  preacher  and  hymnist. 
We  have  yet  to  notice  the  great  field  of  ecclesiastical  guidance 
which  lay  open  to  him  as  general  superintendent,  the  sphere 
of  ecclesiastical  business,  and  above  all,  the  reform  of  the 
school  system  to  which  he  so  fondly  contributed  his  share 
during  his  official  incumbency.  Here  we  behold  Herder's  con- 
servative spirit  in  all  its  grandeur,  carefully  guarding  the  old 
and  the  authentic  in  a  period  which  thought  itself  quite  late 
enough  in  dispensing  with  its  old  possessions. 

From  Herder's  relations  at  Bückeburg  we  know  how  con- 
scientiously he  discharged  his  pastoral  duties.  But  it  was 
in  Weimar,  literary  Weimar,  that  he  dared  to  say  a  word  on 
the  old-fashioned  institution  of  ecclesiastical  discipline.  And 
here  he  placed  himself  upon  the  safe  ground  of  old  and 
authenticated  Protestantism.  What  was  it  but  the  indulgence, 
the  sale  of  sins  for  gold,  that  had  necessitated  the  Refor- 
mation? What  had  once  proceeded  from  the  pope  and  the 
Romish  church  was  now  being  produced  by  the  usurping, 
frivolous  spirit  of  the  times.  Many  rich  and  educated  people 
believed  that  they  could  absolve  themselves  from  ecclesiastical 
discipline  by  their  money.  Herder  protested  against  all  this. 
"  The  penance  and  censorship  exercised  by  the  church,"  he 
thus  expresses  himself,  without  caring  for  the  freethinking 
multitude,  "taken  in  the  sense  in  which  they  were  under- 
stood in  Biblical,  apostolical  times,  when  public  offenders  were 
excluded  from  the  fellowship  of  the  church  and  repentant 
sinners  were  received  back  again,  must  not  be  abrogated,  in 


herder's  views  on  the  press  and  education,  63 

my  opinion,  nor  converted  into  something  else  than  what 
they  should  be,  just  so  long  as  we  have  the  Bible,  and  believe, 
or  seem  to  believe,  in  the  Third  Article,  which  concerns  the 
body  of  believers,  as  organized  through  the  forgiveness  of 
sins.  From  this  body  no  class  should  be,  excluded,  no  one 
should  be  dispensed  with;  for  Christianity  makes  no  distinction 
of  classes.  Soldier,  courtier,  prince  and  minister  are  Chris- 
tians; no  sin  can  be  absolved  by  money,  and  no  prince  can 
release  from  sins  or  make  them  a  privilege."1 

But  strict  as  Herder's  views  were  on  this  point,  they  were 
equally  strict  in  reference  to  the  license  of  the  press  and  the 
abuse  of  the  freedom  of  instruction.  It  can  not  be  out  of 
place  in  the  present  day,  when  the  free  Gospel  and  free  press 
have  become  the  cry  of  an  immoderate  popular  tendency,  to 
communicate  Herder's  opinions  on  the  subject.  He  says:  "I 
believe  that  no  ancient  lawgiver  would  have  dreamed  of 
giving  such  freedom  to  all  that  is  now  termed  science  with- 
out the  careful  oversight  and  control  of  the  state.  It  is  unde- 
niable that  the  sciences  are  abused  by  insolence,  luxury, 
and  licentiousness;  and  therefore  they  injure  the  morals  and 
thinking  of  a  society.  Whoever  would  publicly  excuse  blas- 
phemy, or,  which  is  but  little  better,  reproaches  cast  upon 
sound  reason,  honesty  and  virtue,  evon  praises  these  sins.  The 
state  is  therefore  not  only  at  liberty,  but  is  compelled,  to 
protect  and  guard  its  members  against  corruption.  All  men 
are  agreed  on  certain  points  of  healthful  and  happy  thinking ; 
but  the  government  must  not  permit  itself  to  be  controlled 
by  this  excessive  license,  or  it  will  go  to  ruin.  This  is  un- 
doubtedly the  case,  for  the  eggs  of  such  insects  breed  cor- 
ruption, and  the  future  brood  will  not  be  satisfied  with  anything 
less  than  universal  destruction.  A  body  that  is  forsaken  by 
the  controlling  mind,  whose  pulse  is  motionless  and  whose 
feeling  has  ceased,  will  unquestionably  become  the  prey  of 
corruption.  Let  us  suppose  that  blasphemous,  corrupting,  and 
infamous  works  are  permitted  in  the  state.  On  whom  will 
they  exert  their  influence?  On  none  but  the  weak,  feeble, 
and  defenceless  portion  of  the  people ;  and  just  here  will  their 

1  Biographie,  Vol.  II.  p.  149  ff. 


64 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


power  be  most  injurious.  The  solid,  thoughtful,  honest,  and 
laborious  citizen  will  throw  such  things  contemptuously  away ; 
and  you  need  give  yourself  no  care  about  him.  But  the  idle 
weakling,  the  faint  woman,  the  inexperienced  young  man,  and 
perhaps  even  the  innocent  child,  read  them.  The  more  re- 
fined, beautiful,  and  attractive  these  writings  are,  the  more 
extensively  they  are  read,  and  the  greatest  injury  is  inflicted 
upon  these  delicate  members  of  the  nation.  .  .  .  The 
state  is  the  mother  of  all  children;  and  it  should  care  for  the 
health,  strength,  and  innocence  of  each  of  them."1 

"  Every  science,"  says  Herder,  "  is  abused.  Philosophy  can 
become  so  unreasonable,  criticism  so  unmeaning,  insolent 
and  knavish;  history  so  false  and  distorted  in  its  application; 
and  authorship  so  despised,  worthless  and  mercenary,  that  the 
government  dare  not  be  unconcerned  when  it  sees  so  many 
talents  perverted,  true  science  so  reduced  and  false  so  in- 
creased, so  many  obstacles  placed  before  the  former  and  so 
many  lurking-places  prepared  for  the  latter,  and,  finally,  the 
ruin  of  every  good  effect  of  literature."  Does  it  not  seem  as 
if  Herder  spoke  these  words  in  our  own  time  and  to  our  own 
generation?  But  I  am  as  unable  to  find  anything  illiberal 
here  as  in  his  views  on  circulating  libraries  and  theatrical 
plays,  both  of  which  he  would  subject  to  rigid  censorship. 
I  can  not  therefore  agree  with  Gervinus,  who,  in  his  National 
Literature  of  the  Germans,2  compares  these  and  similar  strict- 
ures of  Herder  with  the  blustering  philippics  of  the  general 
superintendents  of  the  seventeenth  century.  I  certainly  per- 
ceive in  them  that  spirit  which  belongs  to  the  genius  of 
evangelical  Protestantism, — the  spirit  of  training,  order,  and 
conformity  to  law.  Yea,  I  perceive  in  them  the  spirit  of 
Luther.  And  it  was  there  that  Herder  felt  himself  in  unison 
with  Luther ; 3  and  he  conscientiously  called  upon  the  Reformer 
as  a  witness  to  prove  that  a  change  of  government  was 
not  necessarily  an  improvement  of  government,  that  the 

1  In  the  concise  work:  Vom  Einfluss  der  Regierung  auf  die  Wissen* 
Schäften.   Werke  zur  Phil.  u.  Gesch.,  Vol.  VII.  p.  423. 

2  Vol.  IV.  p.  481. 

3  Briefe  zur  Beförderung  der  Humanität,  Vol.  X.  p.  352  ff. 


HERDER  IN  RELATION  TO  KANT. 


65 


authority  of  the  rabble  was  the  most  oppressive  tyranny,  and 
that  it  should  be  the  glory  of  the  Germans  not  to  use  foolish 
gibberish  when  the  great  question  is  one  of  loyalty  and 
faith,  and  old  discipline  and  morals?  Herder  very  proper- 
ly sought  to  build  up  a  good  popular  sentiment  from 
beneath,  and  to  lay  the  basis  of  it  in  the  schools;  for,  with 
him,  education  was  the  impulsive  power  of  the  nations. 

Herder's  opinions  on  teaching,  which  he  elaborated  particu- 
larly in  his  school-addresses,  and  in  which  he  by  no  means 
subscribed  to  skeptical  philanthropinism,  will  receive  our 
attention  when  we  come  to  speak  of  the  revolution  that  oc- 
curred in  education  in  the  last  decades  of  the  century.  We 
will  now  part  with  Herder  for  a  time,  yet  without  losing  him 
altogether  from  our  eye;  for,  as  a  great  character  already 
known  to  us,  he  will  hereafter  serve  as  a  standard  of  com- 
parison with  other  great  men,  when  we  can  return  from  our 
wanderings  in  the  pleasure  grounds  to  him  whom  we  placed 
as  a  statue  at  the  entrance. 

We  take  up  the  thread  of  history  in  another  place.  As  I 
showed  at  the  beginning  that  we  must  follow  the  course  of 
later  German  philosophy,  we  must  now  turn  to  the  point 
where  its  development  began.  It  may  appear  strange  that  I 
should  speak  of  Kant  after  Herder;  for  they  were  contempo- 
raries, and  Kant  was  the  elder,  having  been  the  teacher  of 
Herder.  But  I  have  done  this  designedly,  since  Herder  was 
not  only  a  pupil  of  Kant  but  also  entered  the  lists  as  his 
adversary;  and  he  was  more  identified,  by  his  whole  character, 
with  the  influences  and  memories  of  the  olden  time  than  Kant 
was,  for  the  latter  broke  loose  from  them  as  far  as  he  could. 
Besides,  Herder,  though  younger,  had  acquired  a  literary 
reputation  before  Kant's  Critique  excited  universal  attention. 
Thus  Herder  had  the  seniority  of  Kant  as  an  author.  But, 
finally,  my  chief  reason  was,  that,  since  Herder's  character 
was  more  versatile  and  interesting,  it  seemed  most  fitting 
that  he  should  take  the  precedence;  for  Kant  lays  his  great 
claim  upon  us  by  his  system,  which  is  quite  distinct  from  his 
personality.  I  thought  it  hazardous  to  begin  with  a  system, 
that  is,  with  something  lifeless  and  abstract.   I  would  first 


66 


IIISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


lay  such  a  foundation  as  is  furnished  by  Herder.  Having 
been  warmed  and  strengthened  by  him,  we  will  now,  for  the 
first  time,  approach  the  marble  bust  of  the  great  thinker. 

Immanuel  Kant  was  born  at  Königsberg  on  the  22nd  of 
April,  1724.  He  was  the  son  of  a  saddler,  and  received  a 
strict  training  from  his  parents.  His  mother,  particularly, 
exerted  a  pious,  Christian  influence  upon  him.  Kant  has  thus 
expressed  himself  concerning  her:  "She  was  an  amiable, 
affectionate,  devout  and  exemplary  woman,  who  attracted  her 
children  to  the  fear  of  God  by  her  pious  instruction  and 
virtuous  example.  She  often  led  me  to  the  suburbs  of  the 
city  and  directed  my  attention  to  the  works  of  God;  she  ex- 
pressed herself  in  pious  joy  concerning  his  omnipotence,  wis- 
dom, and  goodness;  and  impressed  upon  my  heart  a  pro- 
found reverence  for  the  Creator  of  all  things.  I  shall  never 
forget  my  mother,  for  she  implanted  in  me  the  first  germ  of 
goodness;  she  opened  my  heart  to  the  impressions  of  nature; 
she  awakened  and  enlarged  my  ideas;  and  her  instructions 
have  exercised  a  permanently  wholesome  influence  upon  my 
life."1 

According  to  some  writers,  Kant's  mother  adopted  the  preva- 
lent Pietism,  an  opinion  shared  by  Pastor  Schultz,  one  of 
Kant's  earliest  teachers.  At  all  events,  it  is  probable  that  the 
strict  conscientiousness  which  distinguishes  the  Kantian  system, 
with  all  its  defects,  arose  more  from  these  earliest  impressions 
of  his  training  than  from  the  later  philosophical  mental  pro- 
cesses of  the  mature  man.  His  father  always  taught  him 
truthfulness,  and  considered  falsehood  a  mortal  sin.  This  had 
its  influence  in  forming  young  Kant's  strict  view  on  the  sin- 
fulness of  white  lies.  But  his  mother  desired  holiness  with 
truthfulness;  and,  as  Kant's  biographer  says,  the  craving  of 
his  practical  reason  for  holiness  was  a  demand  in  which  he 
was  greatly  aided  by  his  good  mother.1 

It  was  by  the  advice  of  the  pious  preacher  and  gymnasial 
director,  Schultz,  that  the  parents  permitted  their  son  to 
study;  and  Schultz  magnanimously  assisted  them.  Kant  very 

1  From  Jachmann's  Leben  Kant's,  p.  99.    Königsberg,  1804. 
1  Borowski,  Leben  Kant's,  p.  23.   Königsberg,  1804. 


IMMANUEL  KANT. 


67 


soon  manifested  an  extraordinary  memory.  He  could  recite 
verbatim  long  selections  from  the  classics,  and  also  made  great 
progress  in  mathematics. 

He  entered  the  University  of  his  native  city  in  1740.  It 
is  said  that  he  devoted  himself  to  theology,  on  which  he 
heard  some  lectures;  but  his  life  soon  took  a  different  di- 
rection. He  discharged  the  duties  of  a  private  tutorship  in 
the  country  for  a  time,  but  it  was  neither  adapted  to  his 
talents  nor  inclination.  He  could  not  let  himself  down  to  the 
comprehension  of  children,  and  he  was  afterwards  accustomed  to 
say  that,  perhaps,  there  could  not  be  found  in  the  world  a  worse 
tutor  than  himself.  But  he  made  the  more  diligent  use  of 
his  quiet  country  residence  for  advancement  in  his  studies, 
and  here  he  first  conceived  the  outlines  of  his  later  system. 
He  had  not  altogether  forsaken  theology  as  yet,  and  even 
preached  a  couple  of  times  in  rural  churches.  But  he  soon 
forsook  the  pulpit  and  every  clerical  employment,  and  gave 
himself  up  to  academic  labors.  Having  returned  to  his  native 
city,  he  received  the  master's  degree  in  1755,  and  com- 
menced to  deliver  philosophical  lectures.  Through  fifteen  years 
be  occupied  this  precarious  position  of  a  lecturing  master;  at 
the  end  of  which  time,  1770,  he  received  the  professorship 
in  ordinary  of  mathematics.  But  he  soon  exchanged  it  for 
logic  and  metaphysics. 

He  had  long  ago  appeared  as  an  author,  chiefly  in  the  de- 
partment of  applied  natural  sciences.  Also  in  philosophy  he 
had  already  struck  his  own  course,  in  antagonism  to  the  former 
Wolfian  method.  He  became  a  member  of  the  Royal  Academy 
of  Berlin  in  1787;  but  received  less  of  such  distinctions  than 
were  accorded  to  many  learned  men  of  his  age.  Yet  he 
attached  no  great  value  to  them. 

His  manner  of  living  was  extremely  simple;  outwardly,  it 
might  be  called  poor.  He  did  not  make  long  journeys,  and 
never  went  more  than  twenty-eight  miles  from  Königsberg. 
He  never  saw  any  larger  city,  nor  even  reached  the  neigh- 
boring city  of  Danzig.  He  was  never  married,  and  seldom 
saw  his  nearest  relatives,  even  his  brothers  and  sisters.  He 
gathered  only  a  few  select  and  tried   friends  about  him. 


68 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Otherwise,  he  lived  with  his  servant,  in  the  strictest  domestic 
and  daily  order,  from  which  he  scarcely  ever  varied.  He  had 
but  little  taste  for  the  fine  arts.  He  gave  no  attention  to 
paintings  or  engravings,  and  did  not  love  music.  He  con- 
sidered this  last  an  injurious  pastime.  He  held  that  young 
daughters  would  be  far  better  to  have  the  instructions  of 
a  cook  than  elaborate  lessons  in  music  and  dancing.  The  great 
philosopher  prized  cookery  as  an  art.  In  conversing  with 
ladies  it  was  his  favorite  theme,  while  he  avoided  all  philo- 
sophical discussions  with  them.  He  loved  cards;  and  in  social 
circles  he  manifested  a  lively  good-humor  and  pleasantry  far 
removed  from  all  pedantry.  His  intellectual  powers  waned 
very  perceptibly  toward  the  close  of  his  life.  The  man  who 
had  given  new  laws  to  the  thinking  world  fell  into  a  sort 
of  imbecility,  so  that  he  could  no  longer  write  his  own  name 
correctly.  He  laid  aside  his  professorship  in  1794,  and  died  on 
the  12th  of  February,  1804.  His  emaciated  body  was  thoroughly 
dried  up  at  his  death ;  that  intellectual  blue  eye,  which  gave 
life  to  a  form  otherwise  not  imposing,  was  quenched.  His 
lifeless  tenement  was  interred  in  the  crypt  of  the  Univer- 
sity Church. 

As  for  his  character,  we  can  speak  in  high  terms  of  his 
candor,  truthfulness,  and  lofty  sense  of  propriety.  Although 
he  collected  a  considerable  property,  because  of  his  unmarried 
state  and  simple  life,  he  did  not  attach  much  importance  to 
worldly  possessions.  He  was  an  enemy  to  all  idleness  and 
begging,  yet  he  was  benevolent  to  the  worthy  poor.  He  sel- 
dom attended  public  worship,  because  he  considered  it 
only  an  outward  incentive  to  morality.  He,  the  advanced 
thinker,  believed  that  he  had  no  need  of  it;  but  he  held 
that  the  masses,  not  accustomed  to  self-thought  or  self-train- 
ing, required  the  institution  of  the  church.  He  therefore  con- 
scientiously attached  great  value  to  all  religious  institutions, 
and  despite  all  his  liberal  views  on  government,  remained  a 
sincere  friend  of  public  order,  and  scorned  all  violent  revo- 
lutions. We  will  treat  of  his  religious  convictions  in  con- 
nection with  his  system.  Thus  much,  however,  for  the  present. 
"Gentlemen,"  he  said  on  one  occasion,  "I  am  not  afraid 


MORAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  RESULTS  OF  KANT'S  PHILOSOPHY.  69 

of  death ;  I  shall  know  how  to  die.  I  assure  you  before  God 
that,  if  I  felt  that  I  would  die  this  very  night,  I  would  raise 
my  hands,  fold  them,  and  say:  lGod  be  praised.'"1  As 
ignorant  admirers  of  Kant  had  placed  him  on  a  level  with 
Christ,  he  replied  to  their  idolatry  by  confessing  that  he  bowed 
humbly  before  His  name,  and  looked  upon  himself,  when  com- 
pared to  Christ,  as  a  mere  bungler  trying  to  explain  him  as 
best  he  could.2 

Having  given  this  brief  portraiture,  which  certainly  appeared 
necessary  beside  that  of  Herder,  if  I  should  now  unfold  to 
you  the  system  for  which  you  are  waiting  as  the  most  im- 
portant matter,  I  would  be  conscious  of  the  difficulty  of  my 
undertaking,  for  Kant  himself  despaired  of  making  his  doctrines 
popular,  or  of  even  introducing  them  into  the  circle  of  culti- 
vated women.  I  believe,  moreover,  that  an  exposition  of  his 
system  would  not  only  be  unnecessary,  but  even  out  of  place 
at  present;  and  therefore  I  shall  be  content  to  communicate 
the  results,  so  far  as  they  affect  religious  and  moral  life. 
For  it  is  these  alone  that  have  ministered  to  ecclesiastical 
development,  and,  by  affecting  the  character  of  Protestant 
faith,  have  exerted  an  influence  upon  others. 

Theologians  and  philosophers  of  all  confessions  had  hitherto 
speculated  and  contended  at  random  on  divine  and  human 
matters ;  and,  from  propositions  which  they  accepted  as  certain 
and  demonstrated,  they  deduced  further  conclusions,  concerning 
which  there  arose  new  discussions,  that  were  all  the  more 
animated  as  each  party  believed  itself  the  possessor  of  the 
truth.  But  Kant  bore  no  lance  into  this  conflict.  While  these 
men  made  at  each  other,  he  went,  as  it  were,  around  the  bound- 
ary-lines and  examined  the  battle-field,  to  see  if  he  had 
sdlid  ground.  He  proved  his  weapons  to  learn  if  they  were 
trustworthy,  and  asked  how  far  the  arrows  would  go,  and 
how  deeply  the  swords  would  pierce.  It  was  enough.  For, 
after  the  example  of  an  English  philosopher,  David  Hume, 
he  subjected  man's  intellectual  powers  to  a  new  trial,  while 
he  laid  before  himself  the  questions:  What  can  man  know? 

1  Wasianski's  Leben  Kant's,  p.  52. 

2  Borowski's  Leben  Kant's,  p.  86.  Note. 


70 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


How  far  does  the  strength  of  his  reason  extend?  Into  what 
regions  will  it  guide  him  with  safety?  How  far  can  he  trust 
himself  to  its  guidance? 

In  his  work  entitled  Critique  of  Pure  Reason  he  pursued 
this  inquiry,  and  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  everything 
which  is  beyond  time  and  space,  outside  the  forms  of  our 
sensuous  knowledge,  is  not  a  subject  for  pure  thought.  As  it 
was  once  a  discovery  in  the  visible  world  that  our  earth  is 
not  the  center  of  the  universe,  about  which  the  sun  and  all 
the  planets  revolve,  but  that  it  is  only  a  small  point  in  the 
universe,  which,  like  all  others  of  its  kind,  revolves  about  its 
central  sun,  thus  bringing  no  small  humiliation  to  our  human 
pride,  so  was  this  discovery  in  the  kingdom  of  the  invisible 
world, — in  the  kingdom  of  thought.1 

Thus  he  drew  in  the  wings  of  speculation,  that  had  been 
outstretched  over  the  whole  heavens,  and  called  together  the 
powers  that  were  being  spent  in  controversy  on  all  sides,  so 
as  to  review  them,  and  collect  and  concentrate  all  the  strength 
into  the  brightly-burning  focus  of  real  thought.  And  who 
will  deny  that  there  was  a  more  complete  victory  in  this 
acquired  self-knowledge  and  self-limitation  of  reason  than  in 
all  the  doubtful  conquests  in  a  department,  which,  with  its 
former  breadth  and  circuit,  man  could  not  claim  as  his  own? 
What  was  safe  and  tangible  seemed,  at  all  events,  to  be  pre- 
ferable to  the  unseen  and  intangible. 

This  discovery  of  Kant  cannot,  of  course,  be  elevated  to 
a  mathematical  certainty,  as  the  earlier  one  of  his  country- 
man, Copernicus,  because  it  could  not  be  achieved  by  any 

1  Schenkel  (Belig.  Zeitlcämpfe,  p.  186.  Hamburg,  1847)  contrasts  Kant 
with  Copernicus:  "According  to  Copernicus,  as  is  well  known,  the  sun 
revolves  about  the  earth;  but  according  to  Kant,  on  the  contrary,  the 
outer  world  must  be  governed  by  man,  and  appear  just  as  the  laws  of 
human  thought  require  it."  But  we  would  rather  term  Kant  a  second 
Copernicus;  and  he  considers  himself  as  such  when  he  says  (Preface  to 
Kritik  der  reinen  Vem.,  3rd  Ed.  p.  xvi.):  "As  the  explanation  of  the  planet- 
ary motions  did  not  seem  satisfactory,  Copernicus  proposed  that  it 
would  be  better,  if  he  'should  let  the  spectator  turn  himself  and  leave 
the  stars  at  rest."'  As  Copernicus  would  not  confound  apparent  and 
real  motion,  so  with  Kant  in  the  field  of  the  intellect. 


APPLICATION  OF  THE  KANTIAN  PHILOSOPHY  TO  RELIGION.  71 

exterior  apparatus,  and  no  other  glasses  could  be  used  save 
those  which  were  polished  by  the  Kantian  Criticism,  the 
categories  established  by  himself.  But  it  was  of  great  ad- 
vantage that  the  mind  of  man  was  turned  toward  himself, 
and  directed  to  the  examination  of  his  own  strength.  The 
old  inscription  over  the  temple  of  wisdom:  "Know  Thyself," 
was  renewed,  and  shone  as  a  guiding  pillar  of  fire  through 
the  darkness  in  which  many  of  the  ancient  and  modern 
philosophers  had  been  groping.  Therefore,  many  have  termed 
Kant  a  second  Socrates,  whose  very  ignorance  was  of  more 
worth  than  the  knowledge  of  the  Sophists.  All  the  scholastic 
edifices  of  an  arbitrary,  meditative  and  subtle  reason  were 
shaken  to  their  very  foundation  by  the  criticism  of  Kant. 
And  when  we  consider  the  history  of  Protestantism,  we  can- 
not help  perceiving  in  that  criticism  an  element  of  Protest- 
antism, so  far  as  it  opposed  the  assumptions  of  reason,  or 
rather  of  the  understanding  (that  took  its  place  beside  pure 
reason),  with  the  same  boldness  that  the  Reformers  manifested 
in  their  attacks  upon  the  old  scholasticism.  Bat  it  was  a  great 
misfortune  that,  after  the  new  scholasticism  had  been  over- 
thrown with  the  old,  there  should  soon  spring  up  another  form  in 
its  place,  and  then  a  still  later  one;  so  that,  instead  of  real 
self- thought,  the  mere  swearing  upon  the  master's  word,  and 
the  repetition  of  misunderstood  forms,  have  become  more 
mischievous  since  the  days  of  Kant  than  ever  before. 

Yet  we  must  first  hear  the  man  himself,  and  ask  the 
meaning  of  his  philosophy  and  its  application  to  religion. 

When  Kant  designated  what  was  within  time  and  space  as 
the  subject  of  pure  thought,  he  did  not  mean  that  what  was 
beyond  them  had  no  existence, — that  there  is  nothing  infinite 
and  eternal  beyond  them.  It  would  surely  have  been  a 
wretched  philosophy  to  shut  up  man  in  finitude.  He  by  no 
means  asserts  that  eternal  things  should  be  the  theme  of 
human  inquiry  and  scientific  proof,  and  thus  he  really  leaves 
faith,  as  such,  untouched,  although  he  does  not  make  use 
of  the  expression  faith,  because  he  has  no  appropriate  place 
for  it  in  his  system.  Consequently,  Kant  does  not  allow  that 
God  and  immortality  are  articles  of  faith,  but  postulates  of 


72 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


practical  reason,  which  he  distinguishes  from  pure  or  theoret- 
ical reason.  God  and  immortality,  in  their  real  sense,  cannot 
be  demonstrated;  but  man  is  led  to  the  verity  of  both  these 
truths  from  his  practical,  moral  standpoint.  What  is  certain 
to  man  within  the  confines  of  time  and  space  is  his  moral 
nature,  his  moral  freedom,  his  will.  In  this  self-determining 
will  lies  his  pledge  of  immortality  and  the  evidence  that  there 
is  a  God,  who  is  the  rewarder  of  good  and  evil.  Man  is  a 
free,  moral  being,  and  bears  within  himself  his  calling  to  live 
according  to  his  moral  nature,  even  when  his  natural  inclina- 
tion to  comfort  and  happiness  comes  in  conflict  with  his 
sense  of  duty.  This  undeniable  moral  necessitation,  which 
the  unlearned  Christian  would  only  denominate  conscience, 
was  called  by  Kant  the  "  categorical  imperative." 1  Man  must 
follow  this  unconditionally,  he  should  do  good  for  its  own 
sake,  not  with  any  reference  to  this  or  that  reward,  or  from 
any  fear  of  punishment.  Thus  morality  is  reduced  to  a 
means,  while  it  should  be  an  end. 

We  have  said  already  that  Kant  by  no  means  denied  the 
doctrines  of  immortality  and  future  judgment.  On  the  contrary, 
he  demanded  them  from  the  standpoint  of  practical  reason;  and 
in  reason  he  based  his  faith  in  God  and  immortality.  Because 
man's  pursuit  of  morality,  with  his  natural  impulse  toward  happi- 
ness, frequently  leads  to  opposition  and  dispute,  a  reconciliation 
must  take  place  in  the  future.  There  must  be  an  all-wise, ' 
just  and  merciful  Being,  who  can  and  will  perfect  this  recon- 
ciliation. But  with  this  light  shed  on  practical  reason,  theoret- 
ical reason  must  inexorably  demand,  according  to  Kant,  the 
fulfillment  of  the  moral  law,  even  if  there  were  no  such  future 
judgment.  Man  must  act  under  all  circumstances  in  a  way 
worthy  of  a  free  moral  nature,  and  what  he  ordains  as  a  law 
for  others  must  be  the  same  thing  for  himself.  Our  morality 
cannot  be  made  to  depend  on  promises  or  threats;  it  con- 
tains its  value  in  itself. 

Kant  would  therefore  not  explain  religion  away  as  some- 

1  He  distinguishes  the  categorical  imperative,  which  no  one  can  with- 
draw from  with  honor,  from  the  hypothetical,  which  is  man's  own 
pleasure  and  the  principle  of  mere  maxims. 


THE  KANTIAN  SYSTEM  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


73 


thing  superfluous,  but  emancipate  morality  from  it,  and  place 
it  upon  an  independent  basis.  True  morality  should  not  be 
required  as  a  support  to  religion ;  nor  should  it  be  controlled 
by  religious,  but  by  purely  moral,  motives.  If  these  religious 
motives  are  really  nothing  more  than  the  hope  of  reward  or 
the  fear  of  punishment,  even  though  they  be  eternal  rewards 
and  punishments,  Kant  had  a  perfect  right  to  make  morality 
independent  of  them;  for  Christianity  teaches  us  not  to  do 
good  for  the  sake  of  the  reward,  nor  to  avoid  evil  for  fear 
of  punishment.  It  allows  not  the  slavish  spirit  of  calculation 
and  fear,  but  the  free  spirit  of  adoption.  But  there  is  nothing 
in  the  Kantian  system  on  this  child-like  spirit.  The  categorical 
imperative  is  assuredly  not  that  spirit  of  adoption  by  which 
we  cry,  "Abba,  Father!"  Even  were  it  without  any  ex- 
terior and  authoritatively  given  law,  it  now  is,  and  ever  will 
be,  a  law  of  itself,  a  mere  "Thou  shaft" — a  decree  of  iron 
necessity.  The  Kantian  doctrine  leads  us,  however,  to  the 
same  view  whither  the  Apostle  Paul  conducts  man;  namely, 
that  there  is  one  law  in  our  mind  and  another  in  our  mem- 
bers, which  latter  contends  with  the  law  in  our  mind.  But  in 
answer  to  the  cry:  "0  wretched  man  that  I  am!  who  shall 
deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death?",  this  system  can  give 
no  other  response  to  the  free  man  than:  "Physician,  heal 
thyself!" 

Kant  was  correct  in  not  making  religion  a  support  of 
morality,  if  we  would  understand  by  it  a  mere  exterior  sup- 
port, a  holding-place  for  moral  weakness.  This  would  not 
only  be  an  invasion  of  the  dignity  of  morality  but  also  of  re- 
ligion itself;  for  the  latter  does  not  minister  simply  to  exterior 
ends,  nor  is  it  the  bugbear  and  scarecrow  for  the  godless, 
or  the  bait  for  the  greedy.  But  there  is  a  vast  difference 
between  the  outward  support  against  which  a  tree  barely 
leans,  and  the  root  from  which  it  derives  its  nourishing  sap 
and  impulse  for  growth,  and  from  which  it  springs  forth  with 
healthy  vitality.  That  religion  is  this  root  and  morality,  and 
derives  from  it  its  purest  conditions  of  life,  is  wanting  in  the 
doctrines  of  Kant.  But  he  has  excellently  shown  that  ex- 
ternal righteousness  does  not  make  man  righteous,  and  gives 


74 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


him  no  title  to  salvation,  and  that  conformity  to  law  is  not 
morality. 

Here  he  stands  on  the  basis  of  Christianity  in  opposition 
to  legal  Judaism,  and  on  the  basis  of  evangelical  Protestant- 
ism in  opposition  to  the  righteousness  by  works  of  the  Romish 
church  and  of  many  of  the  later  so-called  moral  philosophers, 
who  state  man's  happiness  as  his  highest  aim, — eudemonism. 
Kant  has  here  removed  a  great  difficulty.  But  if  we  inquire 
further  for  the  fountains  of  morality,  for  the  fundamental 
force  and  impulse  of  all  virtue,  he  then  points  man  to  him- 
self. That  grace  which  produces  life,  and  the  spirit  of  God 
which  communicates  itself  to  man,  supporting  and  elevating 
him,  are  objects  for  which  Kant  finds  no  place  either  in 
theoretical  or  practical  reason.  That  vigorous  and  free  life 
of  faith,  as  it  conquered  the  world  in  the  days  of  the  Apostles, 
and  as  it  was  manifested  in  Luther  during  the  time  of  the 
Reformation,  could  not  draw  its  breath  in  the  air-pump 
of  the  categorical  imperative.  That  celestial  influence  which 
heaven  has  ever  awakened  and  fostered  among  men  was  dis- 
solved in  the  process  of  a  reasonable  life,  conducted  accord- 
ing to  unchangeable  laws.  We  are  reminded  of  Herder's 
figure  of  an  automaton,  whose  limbs  are  moved  by  the  touch 
of  the  exhibitor,  and  in  which  there  is  no  soul  with  its  divine 
life. 

Kant,  however,  recognized  a  God,  a  real,  self-conscious, 
personal  God,  and  not  a  mere  world-soul.  But  this  God  of 
Kant  is,  in  fact,  too  far  outside  the  world,  too  much  in  the 
future.  He  seems  to  exist  merely  for  future  retribution,  and 
is  waiting  until  that  time,  as  an  inactive  spectator  of  human 
actions.  The  Kantian  God  is  the  strict  judge  who  will  hold 
the  scales  of  justice  in  his  hand  at  the  judgment,  but  he  is 
not  one  who  gives  weight  to  our  actions.  He  is  in  reality 
like  the  man  in  the  Gospel  who  gathers  where  he  did  not 
sow,  who  inexorably  demands  without  giving  strength  to 
meet  the  demand.  For,  on  the  supposition  that  there  are 
individuals  who  are  as  far  advanced  in  rational  self-respect 
and  self-conquest  as  the  wise  man  may  demand,  a  few  of  these 
individuals  may  all  the  more  envelop  themselves  in  the  philo- 


THE  KANTIAN  SYSTEM  AND  CHRISTIANITY. 


75 


sophical  mantle  of  their  own  righteousness,  and,  in  their  own 
moral  pride,  elevate  themselves  above  the  multitude;  but  the 
majority,  having  been  elevated  to  a  giddy  height,  despair  of 
success,  and  perish  by  the  force  of  their  own  despondency. 
And  yet  Kant  applies  this  demand  to  all  men;  that  positive- 
ness,  however,  with  which  he  requires  morality  of  man,  and 
by  which  he  estimates  the  true  worth  of  man,  is  great  and 
worthy  of  honor.  As  later  philosophers  appear  to  calculate 
the  value  of  man  according  to  his  advancement  in  thinking, 
and  in  proportion  as  his  intellectuality,  dialectical  dexterity, 
versatility,  and  originality  overspread  everything,  Kant,  on 
the  other  hand,  did  not  hold  the  happiness  of  life  to  consist 
in  intercourse  with  great  minds  like  his  own,  but  with  honest 
souls,  among  whom  his  poor  servant,  Lampe,  always  found  a 
hearty  welcome.1  This  is  humility  and  Christianity.  Such 
an  opinion  would  have  been  pleasing  to  Luther. 

On  looking  further  at  the  relation  of  the  Kantian  system 
to  Christianity,  we  may  ask:  Would  not  the  conviction  of  our 
ignorance  of  divine  things  and  of  the  limitation  of  our  reason 
have  led  us  to  the  acceptance  of  a  revelation?  One  may  say 
to  Kant:  "Because  man  cannot  discover  the  divine  by  the 
aid  of  his  reason,  as  you  have  shown,  we  should  doubly 
thank  God  if  he  has  permitted  us  to  know  what  we  could 
not  find  out  of  ourselves."  And  some  Kantians,  though  not 
Kant  himself,  have  adopted  this  very  natural  conclusion,  in 
order  to  harmonize  their  philosophical  system  with  the  truths 
of  revelation;  for,  according  to  him,  the  idea  of  a  super- 
natural revelation  from  this  premiss  is  one  of  those  very 
things  of  which  reason  knows  nothing.  Wherefore,  he  would 
ask,  as  a  consequence  of  his  supposition,  should  the  human 
mind  know  that  to  be  really  a  revelation  which  is  declared 
to  him  as  such?  What  are  the  safe  criteria  for  perceiving 
such  a  revelation,  and  for  distinguishing  truth  from  false- 
hood? Where  are  the  limits  of  the  natural  and  the  super- 
natural? Where  does  miracle  begin,  and  nature  cease?  To 
all  these  questions  neither  reason  nor  Kant  gives  any  answer, 
lie  asserted  that  the  possibility  of  a  revelation  and  of  miracles 

Yql  II  q  1  Jachmann,  p.  123. 


76 


HISTORY  OF  TILE  CHURCH. 


can  neither  be  affirmed  nor  be  denied  upon  safe  grounds. 
Therefore,  the  essence  of  religion  cannot  depend  upon  the 
acceptance  or  denial  of  this  question.    Since,  with  Kant, 
everything  depends  upon  morality,  so  is  the  moral  quality 
of  a  religious  doctrine  the  measure  of  its  truth  and  the  crit- 
erion of  every  revelation.    Kant  confessed,  with  perfect  con- 
fidence, that,  of  all  existing  religions,  Christianity  corres- 
ponds most  purely  to  the  moral  requirements  of  religion,  con- 
tributes most  to  them,  and  aids  chiefly  to  the  advancement 
of  morality.    He  therefore  did  not  give  an  undue  prominence 
to  only  the  doctrines  of  Christianity,  as  some  of  his  followers 
have  done ;  but,  to  him,  its  historical  principles  were  also  im- 
portant. This  was  true  of  the  person  of  Christ.  He  believed 
that  the  mass  of  men  should  have  their  ideal  in  the  historical 
Savior,  in  whom  pure  morality  is  realized  and  to  whom  it 
can  cling;  that  it  was  proper  that  an  institution  for  eccle- 
siastical fellowship  should  be  given,  by  which  that  may  be 
made  accessible  to  the  mass  of  men  which  the  wise  man  can 
independently  create  from  the  resources  of  his  own  reason. 
He  thought  it  of  great  value  that  there  should  be  an  idea  of  a 
kingdom  of  God  on  earth,  and  of  an  ethical  union  of  men  for 
the  attainment  of  the  highest  moral  ends;  but  yet  man  must 
carefully  distinguish  between  the  real  nature  of  religion  and 
its  priestly  and  stagnant  character.    While  Voltaire  scoffed 
at  the  Bible,  this  more  profoundly  wise  man  recognized  in  it 
an  excellent  means  for  the  propagation  of  moral  truths. 
The  preacher  and  the  instructor  of  the  people  should  make 
the  Bible  as  useful  as  they  can.    But  the  preacher  should 
be  less  careful,  Kant  thought,  to  penetrate  the  original 
meaning  of  the  Scriptures, — which  may  be  left  to  the  learned 
theologian, — than  to  explain  them  according  to  the  existing 
necessity  of  his  hearers;  yet  he  should  guard  against  the 
danger  of  deriving  a  meaning  from  them  which  they  were 
not  originally  intended  to  convey.    This  last  was  a  dangerous 
principle,  which  led  to  the  most  arbitrary  treatment  of  the 
Bible,  and  to  the  adoption  of  any  measures  that  might  prom- 
ise to  be  of  moral  utility. 

It  was  in  common  with  Lessing,  and  in  opposition  to  the 


KANT'S  RESPECT  FOR  THE  DOCTRINES  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  77 

universally  destructive  neology  of  the  times,  that  Kant  dis- 
covered a  germ  of  deep  truth  even  in  the  old  ecclesiastical 
doctrines,  which  he  wisely  urged  should  be  used.  He  there- 
fore endeavored  to  restore  to  honor  even  certain  dogmas 
which  had  been  cast  overboard,  as  in  conflict  both  with  reason 
and  revelation.  The  doctrine  of  original  sin  is  one.  Kant 
knew  too  much  of  human  nature  to  revel  with  Rousseau.  He 
could  not  harmonize  with  the  philanthropinistic  view,  that  man 
is  good  and  innocent  by  nature.  With  him,  man  is  rather 
a  selfish  being,  intent  upon  his  own  interest  and  happiness. 
This  he  termed  "radical  sin."  Goodness  is  not  given  to  man 
by  nature;  he  must  be  trained  and  cultivated  to  it.  Here, 
again,  the  Kantian  and  ecclesiastical  doctrines  diverge,  for 
Kant  held  that  man  must  finally  become,  by  his  own  efforts, 
what  the  Scriptures  and  doctrines  of  the  church  declare  he 
can  become  only  by  divine  agency. 

Grouping  what  we  have  now  said,  we  can  affirm,  that 
Christ,  Christianity,  the  Bible,  the  church,  and  the  doctrines 
of  the  church,  were  not  empty  sounds  to  Kant;  that  they 
were  not  to  him  what  they  were  to  the  common  Deists,  a 
subject  of  scorn  and  contempt.  No,  they  were  themes  that 
received  his  respect,  or  at  least  such  as  he  deemed  worthy 
of  his  serious  reflection  and  most  careful  investigation.  The 
master  did  not  reject  many  things  which  his  disciples  after- 
wards rashly  condemned.  His  conscience  would  not  permit 
him  to  tear  from  the  hearts  of  the  people  that  which  con- 
stituted the  support  of  their  morality.  But  these  supports 
were,  in  his  opinion,  only  an  assistance,  mere  crutches  or 
levers  for  those  who  could  not  yet  raise  themselves.  Biblical 
religion  and  Christianity  were  not  living  truths  to  him  as 
they  were,  for  example,  to  Herder;  and  how  could  he  com- 
municate to  others  what  was  not  vital  in  himself?  But  we 
honor  him  for  not  detracting  from  them,  or  at  least  for  not 
doing  it  intentionally.  But  he  could  have  prevented  his  disci- 
ples from  wandering,  when  the  master  stood  still.  Though 
we  may  doubt  that  one  of  his  most  learned  disciples,  Fichte, 
expressed  the  opinion  that  Christianity  would  outlive  itself  in 
five  years,  similar  expressions  are  not  wanting  on  the  part 


78 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHUßCH. 


of  others.1  While  his  moderate  admirers  were  content  to  com- 
pare him  to  Socrates,  there  were  more  enthusiastic  votaries 
who  raised  him  above  Christ,  or  applied  to  him  the  words 
of  Creation:  "God  said:  'Let  there  be  Light,'  and  there 
was"  —  the  Kantian  philosophy.2 

We  have  seen  how  Kant  rejected  such  idolatry.  Like  all 
truly  great  men,  he  did  not  attempt  to  train  up  a  crowd  of 
imitators,  but  to  excite  great  minds.  He  often  repeated  in 
his  lectures,  that  he  did  not  wish  to  teach  his  hearers  philos- 
ophy, but  how  to  philosophize ;  that  he  would  not  commit  to 
their  hands  a  complete  system,  but  exercise  their  minds  in 
thinking,  and  place  them  in  a  condition  to  find  out  the  truth 
for  themselves.  But  how  could  he  control  waves  that  would 
ever  overflow  the  banks  ?  It  is  astonishing  that  a  system  so 
apparently  dry  and  abstract  as  the  Kantian,  and  which  scarcely 
one  in  a  hundred  could  understand,  should  receive  such  strong 
support.  But  yet  it  did.  Kant's  system,  or,  as  it  was  termed, 
the  Critical  Philosophy,  very  soon  became  a  party-name 
about  which  theologians,  jurists,  teachers,  and  physicians 
clustered.  This  is  a  proof  that  those  ideas  which  Kant  ex- 
cited lay  in  the  spirit  of  the  times;  that  he  embodied  in  a 
compact,  scientific  form  what  had  been  vaguely  glimmering 
in  the  minds  of  others;  and  that  it  only  needed  the  magic 
word  of  a  system  to  call  up  spirits,  which,  without  it,  would 
have  remained  in  darkness.  But  as  every  thing  finds  its 
opposite  and  limitation,  so  was  it  with  the  Kantian  philos- 
ophy; and  in  the  next  lecture  we  will  speak  of  its  most  intel- 
lectual and  strongest  opponent,  Herder,  whom  we  have  treated 
already  in  other  respects. 

1  Fichte,  the  son,  contradicts  this  report,  quoted  by  G.  Müller  in  the 
Leben  Herder  s. 

2  Fichte  mentions  this  in  his  Biography  of  his  Father. 


LECTURE  Y. 


HERDER'S  POSITION  TOWARD  KANT'S  PHILOSOPHY.  —  RATION- 
ALISM AND  SUPERNATUR ALISM. — FRANZ  VOLKMAR  REINHARD 
AND  HIS  CONFESSIONS. 

At  the  close  of  the  last  lecture  we  remarked  that  the 
Kantian  system  not  only  revolutionized  German  philosophy 
but  also  influenced  the  wider  sphere  of  science, — namely, 
the  sphere  of  religious  ideas,  art,  morals,  politics,  and  edu- 
cation. And  as  we  noticed  the  fact,  that  the  spirit  of  the 
times  and  the  passion  for  whatever  was  new  and  peculiar 
aided  toward  the  increase  of  its  adherents,  it  would  be  more 
than  mere  injustice  to  ignore  the  mighty  impulse  which  Kant 
gave  to  thinkers  by  means  of  his  philosophy.  That  philos- 
ophy cannot  be  deemed  accidental  which  could  win  and  employ 
in  its  service  for  some  time  two  such  young  men  as  Schiller 
and  Fichte,  though  it  could  not  permanently  content  them; 
and  which  ruled  many  minds,  either  consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously, over  half  a  century.  And  it  still  controls  men,  for 
while  it  can  count  only  a  few  adherents  in  the  schools,  there 
is  still  a  large  class  of  educated,  or  moderately  educated, 
people  who  follow  in  its  footsteps.  Kant's  philosophy  is  im- 
portant in  universal  history,  and  therefore  deserves  to  be 
named  with  respect.  In  his  Critique  he  has  given  to  the 
thinking  minds  of  the  German  nation,  which  includes  the 
greatest  number  of  his  disciples,  a  task  over  which  profound 
thinkers  and  professional  philosophers  have  worked  themselves 
weary  down  to  the  present  day.  The  acts  concerning  him 
and  the  influence  which  his  philosophy  wields,  and  in  what 


80 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


its  service  and  error  consist,  are  not  yet  closed ;  and  we  are 
by  no  means  called  upon  to  form  an  opinion  on  this  subject, 
much  less  to  pronounce  judgment.  It  is  enough  to  acknowl- 
edge greatness  and  importance  wherever  they  meet  us;  and 
since  we  have  found  that  the  relation  of  this  philosophy 
to  the  development  of  Protestantism  was  one-sided,  and 
antagonistic  in  many  respects  to  the  radical  principles  of  Chris- 
tianity, we  shall  pronounce  opinion  on  this  relation  only, 
which  is  all  we  are  concerned  with,  but  not  on  the  system 
itself,  because  we  have  only  become  acquainted  with  it  by 
fragments.1 

But  it  is  as  necessary  for  our  historical  purpose  that  we 
be  mindful  of  the  enthusiastic  favor  that  Kant  received  from 
some  of  his  contemporaries  as  of  the  opposition  that  he  en- 
countered from  others.  A  minute  history  of  the  controversy 
cannot  be  given  here.  But  it  must  naturally  be  expected 
that,  as  there  was  a  multitude  of  thoughtless  adherents,  so 
there  was  also  an  abundance  of  nonsensical  and  foolish  re- 
plies, and  vulgar  invectives  and  suspicions.  Many  whose 
pasteboard  house  had  been  roughly  blown  down  by  Kant's 
ingenious  arguments,  grew  angry  at  him.  Even  the  great- 
crowd  of  illuminists,  who  had  indulged  in  loose  and  wild 
reasoning,  were  not  contented  with  Kant;  for,  while  his 
system  afforded  in  the  main  the  pretext  which  neology  had 
long  been  wishing  for,  the  limitation  of  religion  to  morality, 
and  the  like,  the  rigid  discipline  of  thought  which  Kant  in- 
troduced by  his  critical  system  was  uncomfortable  to  many, 
and  the  vain  ones  among  them  were  all  the  more  vexed  be- 
cause their  fame  had  been  eclipsed  by  his  own. 

1  We  may  refer  educated  readers,  who  desire  to  become  more  fully- 
acquainted  with  the  Kantian  and  subsequent  systems,  to  Chalybäus, 
Historische  JEntwicJcelung  der  speculaüven  Philosophie  von  Kant  bis  Hegel 
(2nd  Ed.  1839);  and  also  to  Fortlage,  GenetiscJie  Geschichte  der  Philo- 
sophie seit  Kant  (Leipzig,  1852).  [Chalybäus'  work  has  been  translated 
into  English.  (Andover,  1854).  A  still  better  work  than  these  is  Schweg- 
ler's  History  of  Philosophy  in  Epitome,  translated  by  J.  H.  Seelye  (5th 
Ed.  New  York,  1866).  See  pp.  229—365  for  the  Kantian  and  later 
philosophical  systems. — J.  F.  H.] 


RESEMBLANCE  BETWEEN  HERDER  AND  KANT.  81 

But  we  must  distinguish  between  the  common  class  of 
shriekers  against  the  Kantian  system  and  opponents  of  weight 
and  character.  We  have  already  mentioned  Herder  as  its  ad- 
versary, and  the  occasion  is  now  presented  to  do  what  I  an- 
nounced in  the  last  lecture, —  to  compare  his  greatness  with 
another.  But  before  investigating  the  difference  between  the 
two  men,  let  us  proceed  from  that  which  they  had  in  com- 
mon. They  were  not  merely  united  by  similar  citizenship, — 
for  they  were  both  Prussians, — nor  by  their  illustrious 
name  in  a  remarkable  period,  but  by  their  Protestantism, 
and  sharp,  critical  pungency.  Both  were  Protestant  minds, 
both  men  of  progress  and  free  development;  both  possessed 
an  irrepressible  desire  for  something  new  and  better;  both 
would  elevate  man  above  the  narrow  limits  of  the  horizon 
of  his  birth,  education,  and  custom,  to  a  broader  considera- 
tion of  himself,  to  the  consciousness  of  his  intellectual  dignity, 
and  to  the  possession  and  enjoyment  of  his  humanity  in  the 
noblest  sense  of  the  word.  Man  as  man,  considered  in  his 
humanity  alone,  was  the  task  of  both;  and  it  is  remarkable 
•hat  humanity,  the  word  so  frequently  employed  by  Herder, 
was  also  the  watchword  of  Kant.  When  the  mental  and 
physical  powers  of  the  latter  were  in  decay,  the  last  time 
that  he  aroused  to  himself  he  was  heard  to  say:  "The  feel- 
ing for  humanity  has  not  yet  left  me!"1 

We  would  expect  from  Herder's  humanity  that,  having  been 
Kant's  junior  and  his  former  scholar,  he  would  entertain  to- 
ward him  the  same  personal  respect  with  which  he  regarded 
all  the  great  men  of  his  own  and  of  all  times.  Otherwise, 
he  would  have  been  untrue  to  his  own  principle:  "The  dis- 
ciple who  persecutes  his  teacher  bears  a  Nemesis  upon  his 
back,  and  the  mark  of  reprobation  upon  his  forehead."2  No, 
we  have  already  observed  in  Herder's  life  that  he  had  a  high 
personal  esteem  for  Kant.  He  knew  how  to  give  proper 
credit  even  to  Kant's  doctrines  and  their  service  to  the  times. 
He  guarded  them  against  unjust  imputations  and  wrong  con- 

1  "Wasianski,  p.  205. 

8  Das  Fest  der  Graden,  in  Schiller's  Hören,  17Ö5.   Part.  II.  p.  14. 


82 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


elusions.  "It  is  false,"  said  he,  "quite  false,  that  his  philos- 
ophy detracts  from  experience;  for,  on  the  contrary,  it  is 
connected  with  it,  wherever  it  is  possible.  ...  It  is 
false  that  he  loved  a  philosophy  which,  without  a  knowledge 
of  other  sciences,  is  ever  threshing  out  empty  straw;  for 
those  who  do  this  are  not  of  his  class.1 

Herder's  censure  was  leveled  rather  against  those  partisan 
worshippers  who,  instead  of  taking  Kant's  Critique  of  Pure 
Reason  as  the  threshing-floor,  where  the  chaff  of  philosophi- 
cal thought  should  be  separated  from  the  pure  wheat,  re- 
garded it  as  the  very  substance  of  all  human  thought  and 
knowledge.  "What  a  misconception,  what  an  abuse,"  says 
Herder,  in  a  Protestant  manner,  "  to  take  the  outline  for  the 
thing  itself,  the  frame  for  the  picture,  and  the  vessel,  whose 
seams  he  would  explain,  for  its  entire  contents,  and  to  believe 
that  all  the  treasures  of  knowledge  are  gathered  into  it.  .  .  . 
The  intolerance  with  which  the  real  and  false  Kantian s 
speak  of  their  universal  tribunal,  where  they  condemn, 
praise,  and  reject,  has  been  as  odious  to  the  respectable 
portion  of  Germany  as  it  must  have  been  to  the  tolerant 
character  and  considerate  perception  of  truth  of  the  author 
of  this  philosophy."  .  .  .  "Kant's  own  works,"  says  the 
same  Herder,  prophetically,  "  will  remain.  Their  spirit,  though 
it  be  cast  in  another  form,  will  really  continue  to  work  and 
live.  Kant  has  already  exerted  a  powerful  influence,  and  his 
traces  are  perceptible  in  almost  every  department  of  human 
investigation.  He  has  brought  a  new  incentive  to  the  mind, 
not  only  to  sift  the  old,  but  also  ...  to  arrange,  in 
rigid  ideas,  human  sciences,  morality,  and  natural  and  popu- 
lar rights.  These  are  very  wholesome  attempts;  they  will 
take  hold  upon  facts ;  and  hereafter,  God  willing,  they  shall 
become  accepted  maxims."  "It  would  have  been  unmistaka- 
bly beautiful  and  useful,"  says  Herder,  in  his  Letters  on 
Humanity,  "if  Kant's  pure  view  had  been  recognized  and 
adopted  by  ail  his  disciples.  That  salt  by  which  he  has 
sharpened  and  purified  our  understanding  and  reason,  and 
the  power  with  which  he  has  evoked  the  moral  law  of  free- 

1  Biographie,  Vol.  II.  p.  240. 


HERDER'S  OPPOSITION  TO  KANT. 


dorn  within  us,  could  not  but  produce  good  fruits."1  "But" 
says  he  in  another  place,  "if  the  Kantian  philosophy  is  to  be 
looked  upon  as  a  ferment,  the  folly  of  men  has  mistaken  the 
leaven  for  the  lump  itself,  and  hence  the  inconceivable  mis- 
chief."2 

Herder  was  of  the  opinion  that  it  would  be  a  serviceable 
undertaking  to  collect  the  important  principles  from  Kant's 
writings,  and  then  compare  them  with  the  previous  products 
of  philosophy,  and  thus  to  acquire  a  safe  result  from  what 
lie  had  contributed  anew;  for  only  bedazzled  Kantians  could 
maintain  that  all  was  new.  Justice  and  humanity  seemed  to 
him  to  demand  such  a  labor.  Even  Kant's  service  would  not 
be  diminished,  and  Herder  was  opposed  to  the  one-sided 
elevation  of  it  at  the  expense  of  the  achievements  of  all  other 
philosophers.  What  influenced  Herder  particularly  against 
the  autocracy  of  the  Kantian  philosophy,  as  it  now  prevailed 
also  in  theology,  was  his  experiences  in  the  examination  of 
candidates  at  Weimar.  "There  came,"  Herder's  biographer, 
J.  G.  Müller,  tells  us,  "young  theologians  to  Weimar  to  be 
examined,  whose  ignorance,  arrogance,  and  wanton  answers 
partially  angered  and  partially  pained  Herder;  when,  for 
example,  simple  young  men  said  to  him:  4 We  have  not  been 

1  Werke  zur  Philosophie  und  Geschichte,  Vol.  XI.  p.  188  ff.  Here  there  is 
also  a  beautiful  sketch  of  Kant:  "I  have  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of 
knowing  a  philosopher  who  was  my  teacher.  In  his  most  brilliant 
years  he  had  the  joyous  vivacity  of  a  young  man,  which,  I  believe, 
attended  him  in  his  latest  years.  His  broad  forehead,  made  for  thought, 
was  the  seat  of  indestructible  serenity  and  joy;  the  richest  language 
fell  from  his  lips;  pleasantry,  wit,  and  humor  stood  at  his  command; 
and  his  instructive  lectures  were  the  most  entertaining  intercourse. 
.  .  .  The  history  of  men,  nations,  and  nature,  and  the  natural  sciences, 
mathematics,  and  education,  were  the  fountains  which  gave  life  to  his 
lectures  and  conversation;  nothing  worthy  of  knowing  was  of  small 
consequence  to  him;  no  cabal,  no  soul,  no  interest,  or  envy  of  another's 
reputation  ever  excited  in  him  the  least  feeling  against  the  extension 
and  elucidation  of  truth.  He  encouraged  and  pleasantly  compelled  self- 
thought.  Despotism  was  foreign  to  his  mind.  This  man,  whom  I  men- 
tion with  great  respect,  is  Immanuel  Kant,  whose  picture  stands  pleas- 
antly before  me,  etc." 

2  Biographie,  Vol.  II.  p.  229. 


8; 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


differently  taught,  let  some  one  teach  us  better!'  A  young 
Weimar  preacher  shot  himself  before  or  after  his  examination 
from  despair  over  his  misspent  study.  Another  talented  young 
man  wrote  an  essay  against  marriage,  and  yet  vehemently 
demanded  that  the  chief  consistory  should  give  him  a  pastoral 
position.  An  unbridled  arrogance,  united  with  a  scornful 
contempt  of  everything  venerable,  prevailed  among  the  young- 
men;  the  holiest  ties  of  nature  were  no  more  of  value  to 
them;  the  love  of  parents,  children  and  wives  was  a  reproach, 
in  their  opinion;  ...  to  be  faithful  and  believing  was 
not  obligatory;  religion,  and  particularly  the  Christian  religion, 
was  regarded  as  mere  superstition.  All  this  new-fledged 
wisdom  was  impudently  expressed,  and  found  its  powerful  pro-, 
factors.  This  pained  Herder.  Indeed,  it  grieved  him  for 
Want's  own  sake,  and  his  indignation  against  this  foolish 
reverence  was  finally  directed  somewhat  toward  the  revered 
man  himself.  He  called  it  'small'  in  Kant  not  to  prevent  the 
mischief,  since  he  could  not  be  blind  to  the  abuses  produced 
by  his  doctrines.  He  is  said  to  have  expressed  the  opinion 
that  only  one  out  of  all  his  disciples,  Court  Preacher  Schulz, 
of  Königsberg,  understood  him.1  Therefore  Herder  felt  him- 
self called  upon  to  oppose  Kant's  Critique  by  publishing  his 
Deductive  Criticism." 2 

We  cannot  enter  into  the  controversy  itself.  It  is  a  fact 
that  Herder's  Deductive  Criticism,  as  well  as  his  Kalligone, 
which  was  also  directed  against  Kant,  did  not  accomplish 
the  desired  result,  and  that  these  two  works  do  not  belong 
to  his  most  valuable  writings.  We  must  confess,  however, 
that  Herder  here  ventured  upon  a  field  where  he  was  much 
less  at  home  than  in  theology,  history,  and  literature.  Specu- 
lative philosophy  was  not  his  business.  In  his  mind,  the  liv- 
ing poetic  view  predominated  over  conception.  He  himself 
thus  addresses  the  abstract  philosopher:  "If  you  must  pare 
the  fruit  for  the  sake  of  your  weak  stomach,  then  pare  it; 
only  do  not  counsel  me  to  chew  the  rind  of  your  abstractions. 
I  eat  fruit  with  its  beautiful  color;  I  drink  the  cup  with  its 

1  A  similar  anecdote  was  related  of  Hegel  just  after  his  death. 

2  Biographie,  p.  225. 


DIFFERENT  STANDPOINTS  OF  HERDER  AND  KANT.  85 

delicious  aroma."1  Thus  the  poet  speaks,  and  we  can  agree 
with  him;  but  here  he  does  not  furnish  any  aid  to  those 
who  applied  the  sharp  knife  of  criticism  to  the  rind. 

While  these  philosophers  regarded  reason  as  an  independent 
power,  apart  from  all  personal  influences  and  conditions  of 
individual  life,  and  while,  for  example,  the  universal  idea 
stood  higher  than  the  individual  man  as  he  really  is  before 
us,  Herder's  vivid  poetic  sense  was  directed  against  this  meta- 
physical exclusiveness.  "Reason,"  he  says,  uis  not  the 
original,  pure  power  that  philosophers  imagine;  it  is  an  ag- 
gregate of  the  observations  and  exercises  of  our  souls,  a  sum 
of  the  education  of  our  race,  and  which,  by  the  aid  of  given 
prototypes,  the  trained  man  completes  in  himself,  after  the 
manner  of  the  artist.  Man  becomes  man  only  by  education, 
and  the  entire  race  lives  only  in  the  chain  of  individuals. 
Race  and  species  are  universal  ideas,  which  are  only  real  in 
so  far  as  they  exist  in  the  individual  being."2 

Herder  thus  proceeded  from  the  reality  of  individual  life 
in  its  connection  with  associated  life,  from  sensuous  intuition, 
and  from  experience;  while  Kant  and  his  disciples  set  out 
from  abstract  conceptions,  and  connected  them  with  each 
other  as  figures  in  an  account.  With  these  different  stand- 
points, harmony  was  hardly  possible.  And  how  intimately 
was  this  difference  of  standpoint  connected  with  a  difference 
in  the  personality  of  these  two  great  men !  Herder  was  trained 
by  life,  Kant  by  the  schools.  Here  lies  their  great  disparity. 
While  the  vessel  which  bore  Herder  from  Riga  to  Nantes 
was  really  the  cradle  of  his  great  thoughts  on  the  billows 
of  the  sea,  we  never  find  Kant  beyond  the  limits  of  his  Kö- 
nigsberg. While  Herder,  in  this  respect  like  Luther,  was 
passionately  fond  of  music,  and  found  in  its  mysterious  lan- 
guage the  key  to  so  much  which  the  naked  thought  could  not 
express,  we  perceive  Kant's  indifference  toward  it,  which,  in- 
deed, we  are  half  inclined  to  call  dullness  on  the  part  of  a 
man  of  such  high  standing.  These  two  men  also  thought  very 
differently  on  the  nature  and  destination  of  art.   Kant  would 

1  Werke  zur  Philosophie,  Vol.  VII.  p.  55. 

2  Ideen  zur  Phil,  der  Gesch.  der  Menschheit,  Vol.  II.  pp.  199—203. 


86 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


allow  no  poetry  but  rhyme,  while  Herder  very  seldom  applied 
himself  to  rhyme.  Herder's  prose  was  like  Lavater's,  often 
very  poetical;  while  his  poetry  sometimes  dragged  itself  along 
in  passages  of  prose.  Kant,  on  the  other  hand,  and  not  un- 
justly too,  demanded  a  rigid  distinction  between  poetic  and 
prosaic  diction.  A  poetic  prose,  said  he,  is  one  gone  mad. 

But  the  greatest  difference  between  the  two  men  lies  in 
the  fact,  that  Herder's  whole  nature  was  grounded  in  domestic 
life,  while  Kant,  the  bachelor,  was  confined  to  himself  and 
a  few  friends.  A  family,  a  household,  can  live  as  little,  in- 
tellectually, on  abstract  ideas  as  physically  on  empty  dishes. 
The  nourishing  daily  bread  must  be  something  stronger  than 
the  scanty  meal  prepared  in  the  philosophical  kitchen.  Her- 
der, like  Luther,  knew  how  to  distribute  to  his  own  family 
the  bread  of  life  which  he  ministered  to  the  congregation; 
and  as  he  felt  himself  to  be  the  priest  of  the  household,  so 
did  his  truly  Lutheran  heart  recognize  the  lofty  purpose  of 
the  priestess.  "The  position  of  a  noble,  faithful  wife  and 
priestess,"  he  said,  "is,  apart  from  all  selfishness,  the  worthi- 
est and  most  beautiful  in  the  world;  and,  with  good  children, 
it  must  be  a  heavenly  position." 

Kant  knew  nothing  of  this  happiness,  for  he  thought  the 
art  of  cookery  was  the  triumph  of  female  culture.  When 
tutor  in  a  family,  he  had  not  known  how  to  enter  into 
the  minds  of  children,  while  Herder  could  address  children 
in  a  child-like  way.  If,  for  example,  we  read  Herder's  letters 
to  his  children  about  his  Italian  journey,  we  shall  be  uncon- 
sciously reminded  of  Luther  and  his  Hänschen ;  thus  frankly 
and  heartily  does  the  great  man  know  how  to  unbend  himself. 
This  is  enough  to  convince  us  how  the  personal  difference  be- 
tween the  two  men  determined  their  methods  of  philosophizing. 
What  we  here  find  pictured  in  these  two  lofty  minds,  Herder 
and  Kant,  we  shall  again  perceive  in  the  times;  and  we 
shall  certainly  observe  that  the  vitally  fresh  and  strong 
method  of  Herder  receded  more  and  more  into  the  back- 
ground, while  the  colorless,  dry,  and  abstract  system  gained 
the  upper  hand,  especially  in  the  religious  sphere. 

The  opposition  between  Rationalism  and  Supernaturalüm 


DEFINITION  OF  RATIONALISM  AND  SUPERNATURALISM.  87 

which  has  prevailed  in  theology  since  Kant,  and  has  come 
down  to  our  times,  though  it  is  now  in  decline,  is  really 
founded  upon  this  abstract  and  formal  thinking,  which  is  re- 
moved from  all  active  contemplation.  And  in  speaking 
of  this  antagonism,  which  constitutes  an  important  period  in 
the  later  history  of  Protestantism  and  of  the  church  in  gen- 
eral, I  must  claim  your  increased  patience;  for  it  will  be 
impossible  to  speak  upon  this  subject  without  being  somewhat 
dry  and  abstract.  Since  the  party-names  "Rationalist"  and 
tt  Supernaturalist"  are  quite  commonly  used  in  ordinary  con- 
versation, and  very  often  vaguely  and  incorrectly,  I  feel  it 
my  duty,  as  far  as  I  can,  to  define  their  meaning. 

We  must  remember  that  long  before  Kant,  and  even  before 
the  time  of  the  Wolfian  philosophy,  there  had  extended  in 
Germany  a  theological  tendency  which  sought  to  discard  the 
old  faith  in  the  Bible  as  quietly  as  possible,  or  at  least  to 
effect  a  moderate  distance  between  reason  and  revelation. 
In  our  last  year's  lectures  we  became  acquainted  with  those 
so-called  neological  efforts,  and  we  saw  how  they  did  not  all 
spring  from  the  same  source;  how  some  were  prompted  by 
an  estimable  religious  feeling  and  an  upright  love  of  truth, 
while  others,  coming  from  vanity  or  a  systematic  abnegation 
of  the  strictly  spiritual  discipline  of  Christianity,  were  com- 
mitted to  the  phantom  of  innovation.1  At  all  events,  the  im- 
pulse toward  religious  illuminism  which  extended  through 
the  century  was  very  indefinite,  and  rested  upon  no  solid 
basis.  The  most  of  the  people  affected  by  it  were  misguided 
in  their  inquiries  by  a  certain  something  which  they  called 
sound  reason,  sound  human  understanding,  liberal  taste,  and 
the  spirit  of  the  age,  without  really  arriving  at  a  distinct 
idea  of  what  this  something  was.  There  was  only  the  feel- 
ing that  the  old  faith  must  be  discarded,  and  hence  some 
thought  the  reformation  could  only  take  place  in  this,  and 
others  in  that  way.  It  was  Kant's  undeniable  service  to  di- 
rect the  stream  of  illuminism  at  least  into  a  narrow  and  well- 
defined  channel,  thus  seeking  to  prevent  the  submerging  with 
which  Germany  was  threatened  by  the  freethinking  literature. 

1  See  Vol.  I.  Lectures  XII— XVI. 


88 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


But  however  far  Kant  was  removed  from  positive  Chris- 
tianity, every  honest  man  will  confess  that  his  exertions  were 
very  different  from  those  of  Voltaire  and  the  Encyclopaedists.1 
Though  it  had  been  customary  to  call  the  system  of  those 
philosophers,  who  overthrew  all  revelation  and  attached  them- 
selves to  nature  alone,  naturalism,  Kant  would  detach  his 
from  it;  and  he  named  his  system,  by  way  of  distinction, 
Rationalism,  the  religion  of  reason.  His  Rationalism  was 
to  be  a  medium  between  skeptical  naturalism  and  hyper- 
orthodox  Supernaturalism.  Kant  himself  gives  the  following 
definition  in  his  work  on  Religion  within  the  Limits  of  Pure 
Reason:  "A  Rationalist  is  he  who  determines  that  natural 
religion  is  morally  necessary,  and  a  duty;  a  Naturalist  is 
one  who  denies  the  reality  of  all  devine  revelation;  a  pure 
Rationalist  may  allow  a  revelation,  but  will  not  admit  that 
the  knowledge  and  acceptance  of  its  reality  is  at  all  necessary 
for  religion;  finally,  a  pure  Supernaturalist  holds  that  faith 
in  revelation  is  indispensable  for  universal  religion."  But 
Kant's  definition  has  not  been  faithfully  adhered  to,  and  down 
to  the  present  day  there  has  been  no  verbal  explanation  that 
has  been  universally  received.  It  is  therefore  highly  improper 
to  adopt  terms  that  so  easily  become  party-names,  and  soon 
get  to  be  associated  with  false  accessory  notions;  nor  is  it 
less  wrong,  in  some  cases,  to  ally  ourselves  with,  or  form  a 
hasty  estimate  of,  individual  characters.  I  confess  that  I  al- 
ways use  these  words  with  some  misgiving,  and  I  only  do  it 
now  because  history  requires  their  mention.2  However,  I 
shall  adhere  to  the  historical  phenomenon  itself,  and  portray 
German  Rationalism  as  it  has  extended  in  Germany  since 
the  Kantian  period;  not  as  it  would  or  should  be,  accord- 
ing to  appointment  and  theory,  but  as  it  was  and  still  is, 
and  as  it  did  conduct  itself  and  still  does  in  ecclesiastical 

1  In  some  of  his  works,  for  example,  in  the  Streit  der  Faeultäten, 
Kant  did,  however,  give  loose  reins  to  his  irony,  and  was  unfair  to 
theologians  and  theology. 

2  Schleiermacher  said,  that  he  always  felt  strange  when  he  heard 
the  words  Ba  and  Supra  rushing  along. 


DIFFERENCE  BETWEEN  RATIONALISM  AND  NATURALISM.  89 

life.1  And  we  must  here  say,  that  we  should  do  violence  to 
history,  if,  as  is  often  the  case,  we  should  reduce  Ration- 
alism to  a  level  with  sheer  infidelity,  or  designate  it  as  a 
tendency  absolutely  hostile  to  Christianity. 

That  tendency  which  was  called  forth  by  Voltaire  and  his 
adherents  has  undoubtedly  had  its  votaries  in  Germany,  and 
these,  too,  in  many  of  the  most  cultivated  circles;  and  we 
well  know  how  Frederick  the  Great  contributed  his  share  to 
it.  But  German  Rationalism,  which  was  embraced  by  many 
of  the  most  respectable  preachers  and  theologians  of  that 
time,  had  nothing  in  common  with  that  light  and  frivolous 
thinking  which  trifled  away  all  the  seriousness  of  life.  While 
frivolous  naturalism,  as  we  prefer  to  call  it,  deemed 
Christianity  worthy  of  no  careful  consideration  whatever,  but 
made  it  chiefly  the  subject  of  its  derision,  the  Rationalists, 
on  the  other  hand,  avowed  themselves  as  the  zealous  friends 
and  promoters  of  the  Christian  religion.  While  the  former 
believed  that  Christianity  had  ceased  to  exist,  and,  like  an 
antiquated  fablp,  would  only  satisfy  the  masses,  or  perhaps 
the  women  and  children,  German  Rationalism,  on  the  con- 
trary, strove  to  make  Christ anity  accessible  to  the  cultivated, 
and  render  it  an  object  of  favor  to  thinking  men;  and,  by 
this  means,  to  accommodate  it  to  the  demands  of  the  times, 
and  to  reason, — or  to  that  which  it  was  customary  to  call 
reason.  With  many,  these  demands  were  extremely  moderate, 
and  went,  in  fact,  no  further  than  those  of  the  naturalists, 
only  that  they  were  more  seriously  intended,  and  aimed  at  a 
purer  morality.  And  thus  it  came  to  pass  with  Rationalism, 
that,  in  reality,  religion  became  only  the  exterior  handle  to 
morality,  which  was  the  root  of  a  deep  religious  life,  while 
religion  was  reduced  to  a  few  abstract  statements.  God. 
or  rather  Providence,  virtue  and  immortality  (retribution 

1  It  is  well  known  that  Röhr  and  Wegscheider  are  the  champions  of 
this  tendency,  and  I  believe  they  would  acknowledge  this  if  they  could 
see  the  fruit  of  their  theology.  However,  there  are  some  things  which 
they  did  not  accept;  as,  for  example,  the  natural  explanation  of  miracles, 
which  one  of  their  defenders,  Paulus,  has  adopted. 


90 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


and  recognition),  were  the  favorite  ideas  about  which  the  re- 
ligions instruction  and  preaching  of  Rationalism  clustered. 

But  morals  won  a  broad  field,  and  they  were  a  very  serious 
thing  with  the  Rationalists,  or  at  least  with  the  nobler  and 
better  class,  who  were  the  real  defenders  of  the  system.  The 
more  the  frivolous  Deists  and  naturalists  sought  to  laugh  away 
the  faith  in  a  God  directing  the  affairs  of  men  and  hearing 
prayer,  in  man's  immortal  destiny  and  future  state,  so  much 
the  more  zealously  did  the  sterner  Rationalists  strive  to  hold 
fast  these  principles  of  the  universal  well-being  of  humanity 
and  of  each  individual.  Rationalism  also  demanded  faith,  in 
opposition  to  frivolous  unbelief.  Bat  it  must  be  a  reasonable 
faith, — and  rightly  so.  However,  all  depended  on  what  was 
meant  by  faith  and  what  by  reason,  and  particularly  on  the 
construction  placed  upon  reason  and  the  character  of  the  so- 
called  religion  and  theology  of  reason.  Kant  had  previously 
distinguished  between  reason  and  the  understanding.  That 
which  is  higher  within  us,  and  raises  us  above  sensitivity, 
he  termed  reason,  while  the  understanding  is  that  which  is 
able  to  recognize,  understand,  and  connect  with  the  sensuous. 
But  he  has  been  charged  with  limiting  reason  too  much  to  the 
supersensuous,  and  even  converting  it  into  a  refined  under- 
standing.1 The  common  Rationalists  then  fell  completely  into 
the  mistake  of  rejecting  everything  as  contrary  to  reason 
which  does  not  at  the  same  time  shed  its  light  upon  the 
common  understanding.2 

Religion  was  in  this  way  taken  out  of  its  sanctuary,  and 

1  See  Jacobi  on  this  point,  m  his  interesting  treatise,  Ueber  den  Ver- 
such, die  Vernunft  zu  Verstände  zu  Lrinjen. 

2  Hence  the  opposition  of  vulgar  Rationalism  to  everything  spec- 
ulative, inner,  and  mystical.  In  place  of  the  pure  use  of  reason,  which 
leads  into  the  depths  of  our  consciousness,  there  soon  sprang  up  a 
Rationalistic  tradition,  a  ready-made  system  of  mental  authenticity,  with 
which  those  who  were  indolent  in  thought,  and  shunned  it,  surrounded 
themselves  as  with  a  comfortable  garment,  and  which  did  less  good 
service  than  the  church-cloak  of  orthodoxy.  Thus  Wegscheidels  In- 
stitutiones  was  as  much  of  a  symbolical  book  to  many  as  the  Formula 
of  Concord  had  been,  while  the  anathema  of  Weimar  became  as  much 
dreaded  as  that  of  Wittenberg,  of  Geneva,  or  of  Rome  used  to  be. 


SPREAD  OF  GERMAN  RATIONALISM. 


91 


the  delicious  fragrance  of  the  mysterious  and  the  miraculous, 
which  rested  upon  it  and  its  history,  was  often  disturbed  by 
coarse  hands,  and  the  great  forms  which  the  common  under- 
standing of  men  was  too  feeble  to  reach  were  made  common. 
Thus  there  was  created  a  Christianity  of  reason,  or  rather 
of  the  understanding,  which  was  related  to  Biblical  and  his- 
torical Christianity  just  as  a  streak  of  shade  is  to  a  brightly 
colored  and  beautiful  painting.  Rationalism  would  not  break 
with  the  Bible  and  Christianity,  as  unhistorical  naturalism  had 
done.  It  leaned  on  what  was  historically  committed  to  man, 
but  this  was  more  of  an  external  attachment  to  the  positive 
than  a  growth  with  it,  and  an  organic  interpenetration  of  the 
outer  and  the  inner  life. 

There  were  some  persons  who  conceded  the  divine  origin 
of  the  Bible ;  while  others  only  accepted  what  was  promotive 
of  morality  and  natural  religion,  laying  aside  the  remainder, 
or  refining  upon  the  written  Word  until  the  desired  meaning 
might  be  gained.  Miracles,  to  which  the  new  illuminism  had 
long  taken  exception,  had  to  fall  to  the  ground  for  awhile,  or 
be  stretched  upon  the  rack  of  torture.  Either  from  real 
respect  for  the  Scriptures  or  the  fear  of  public  opinion,  only 
a  few  persons  determined  to  reject  miracles  as  unhistorical 
poems  and  legends.  People  persuaded  themselves  to  believe 
that  no  miracle  was  related  by  the  passages  in  question ;  the 
language  must  be  read  or  translated  differently;  oriental  fig- 
ures and  analogies  were  employed,  which  had  to  be  thinned 
down  in  prose;  or  the  most  unnatural  natural  explanations 
were  made  to  throw  light  upon  miracles.  Where  God  spoke 
from  heaven,  it  must  have  thundered  or  lightened ;  where  angels 
appeared,  it  must  have  been  an  optical  illusion.  The  new 
scientific  discoveries,  such  as  electricity,  magnetism,  and  the 
like,  helped  out  where  the  grammar  was  deficient;  and  so  it 
was  not  long  before  the  Bible,  which  it  had  been  designed 
to  rescue  from  scorn,  was  again  completely  laid  at  the  mercy 
of  the  scoffers. 

The  more  reasonable  and  moderate  of  the  number  under- 
stood this  fact.  They  renounced  the  natural  explanation,  and 
allowed  miracles  to  stand  simply  as  not  belonging  to  the  es- 

Vol.  II.— 7 


02 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


sence  of  religion.  And  as  with  miracles  of  the  outer  world, 
so  it  was  with  those  of  the  inner.  What  the  Bible  ascribed 
to  the  spirit  of  God  and  his  extraordinary  operations  of  grace, 
now  became  the  mere  effect  of  reason.  Those  regenerated 
by  the  spirit  became  only  more  reasonable,  moral,  respecta- 
ble and  useful  people;  and  when  Paul  says:  "I  can  do  all 
things  through  Christ  which  strengthened  me,"  he  only  used 
a  highly  colored  oriental  figure,  which  meant:  "I  can  do  all 
things  by  my  reason,  by  the  operation  of  my  moral  nature,  in 
which  I  am  greatly  aided  by  the  encouraging  example  of  Jesus." 
Whoever  sought  to  get  any  more  than  this  out  of  such  expres- 
sions, was  regarded  as  a  mystic  and  a  fanatic.  It  might  now  be 
expected  that  the  means  of  grace,  prayer,  and  the  sacraments, 
should  be  converted  into  a  support  of  virtue,  and  the  entire 
Christian  service  reduced  to  a  school  of  morality,  which  the 
man  of  culture  can  readily  dispense  with;  that  the  edification 
wrought  by  the  fellowship  of  the  spirit  should  recede,  and  the 
naked  understanding  suppress  all  significance  and  sensuous- 
ness  in  worship. 

But  I  repeat,  that,  notwithstanding  all  this,  it  would  be 
unjust  to  charge  Rationalism  with  public  or  secret  hostility 
to  Christianity.  Yet  it  is  plain  from  what  has  been  said,  that, 
with  this  negative  thinking,  the  person  of  Christ  could  not 
be  what  it  had  ever  been  in  the  faith  of  the  Christian  church. 
But  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  the  Ambassador  of  God,  the  wise  and 
pious  Teacher,  the  Illuminist  of  Judaism,  who  combated  the 
superstition  and  priestly  assumptions  of  the  Pharisees,  and 
proved  his  sincerity  by  his  heroic  death  on  the  cross,  con- 
tinued to  be  a  venerable  character  even  in  the  estimation  of 
Rationalism,  and  was  only  derided  by  the  skeptics  because  he 
had  been  surrounded  with  a  nimbus  of  mystery  which  Rationalism 
felt  itself  called  upon  to  take  away.  Proceeding  from  its  stand- 
point, Rationalism  held  that  a  better  service  would  be  rendered 
to  Christianity  by  casting  off  all  the  definitions  concerning  the 
higher  dignity  of  Jesus,  his  nature,  origin,  and  the  like,  and 
simply  retaining  his  own  declarations  on  God  and  immortal- 
ity, his  unsurpassed  moral  teaching,  and  his  example.  The 
highest  respect  and  the  purest  and  most  sincere  gratitude, 


HOW  FAR  RATIONALISM  ENDORSED  CHRISTIANITY.  93 


must  be  accorded  to  him  as  the  founder  of  a  religion,  as 
the  noblest  of  men,  and  as  the  one  whom  Providence  fore- 
saw was  more  calculated  than  any  one  else  to  make  the 
world  happy  by  his  wisdom  and  virtue.  The  Rationalist  would 
also  call  himself  a  Christian.  He  saw  his  prototype  in  Jesus. 
It  was  Jesus  who,  as  a  pure  Rationalist,  opposed  the  super- 
stition and  ordinances  of  the  Pharisees,  and  aided  the  sound 
reason  of  the  people  to  assert  its  rights!  It  is  in  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount,  and  in  the  profound  sayings  and  parables  of 
Christ,  that  Rationalism  finds  its  best  equipment  for  moral 
instruction.  The  example  of  Jesus  is  the  most  exalted  any- 
where found  in  history.  His  death  is  that  of  a  moral  martyr, 
of  one  true  to  his  convictions.  The  resurrection,  which  the 
Rationalist  accepts  as  an  historical  fact,1  is  to  him  the  most 
brilliant  proof  of  a  providence  watching  over  the  works  of 
Jesus,  and  the  plainest  intimation  that  God  gave  this  same 
Jesus  to  humanity  as  its  Teacher  and  Savior.  For  the  Ra- 
tionalist accepts  the  principle,  that  there  is  no  salvation  out 
of  Christ,  in  so  far  as  man  advances  his  temporal  and  eternal 
good  by  following  the  instruction  of  Jesus,  and  as  the  religious 
communion  founded  by  Jesus  was  an  institution  desired 
and  intended  by  God  himself  to  aid  the  development  of  the 
religious  life  of  the  individual. 

This  is  without  embellishment,  exaggeration,  or  disfiguration, 
the  picture  of  Rationalism  as  it  extended  mostly  during  the 
Kantian  period  over  a  great  portion  of  Germany,  as  it  de- 
veloped, and  in  part  grew  purer,  by  the  aid  of  theological 
science,  and  as  it  still  exists  and  numbers  its  votaries  among 
the  older  class  of  theologians,  and  even  among  the  many 
educated  and  semi-educated  circles.   But  it  is  plain  that  the 

1  However,  the  Rationalist  has  yielded  to  the  temptation,  if  not  of 
explaining  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  naturally,  yet  of  regarding  it  as 
reconcileable  with  a  natural  process, —the  appearance  of  death,  or  a 
torpidity  resembling  death.  It  was,  nevertheless,  something  real  and 
providential.  Genuine  Rationalism  kept  aloof  from  myths  and  visions. 
This  coincides  with  its  belief  in  a  personal  God,  which,  as  we  shall 
see  later,  separates  it  from  Pantheism, —the  speculative  Rationalism 
of  the  latest  period. 


94 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


general  picture  here  presented  can  appear,  according  to  the 
language  employed,  in  various  gradations  and  shades;  that 
it  may  be  distorted  by  some  into  a  caricature;  by  others, 
elevated  to  a  certain  degree  of  ideality;  by  others  degraded 
into  sheer  naturalism;  and  by  others,  made  to  approach  the 
more  spiritual  and  living  apprehension  which,  being  conform- 
able to  reason,  might  very  properly  be  called  Rationalism. 

But  the  same  law  obtains  here  as  with  all  party  names. 
The  most  diverse  are  sometimes  grouped  under  the  same 
title;  and  as  among  the  orthodox,  Mystics  and  Pietists,  there 
were  noble  and  ignoble  persons,  some  of  whom  held  truth, 
or  their  perception  of  it,  to  be  a  serious  thing,  while  others 
only  played  with  it;  and  as  some  sought  their  neighbor's  good, 
while  others  studied  their  own  interest  and  advantage,  so  it 
was  with  the  Rationalists.  There  is  a  trivial  Rationalism 
which  has  been  well  called  "vulgar  Rationalism,"  and  there 
is  a  higher,  ideal  form  of  it  which  we  would  denominate  the 
Rationalism  of  humanity,  to  which  latter  type  many  noble 
philanthropists  were  attached.  He  who  would  deny  that  there 
have  been  among  the  Rationalists  faithful,  zealous  pastors, 
and  earnest,  conscientious  preachers,  who  strove  first  to  ex- 
perience what  they  afterwards  recommended  to  others,  and 
who  therefore  enjoyed  in  a  high  degree  the  respect  and  love 
of  their  congregations  and  of  all  who  observed  their  conduct, 
or  who  would  attribute  to  them  a  corrupt  motive  of  pride  or 
selfishness,  must  obliterate  many  a  memory  of  the  century, 
and  blot  out  many  an  illustrious  and  useful  name,  from  which 
we  cannot  withdraw  our  esteem.  Before  one  would  here 
sit  in  judgment  and  condemn  others,  he  must  remember  that 
the  individual  is  chiefly  identified  with  his  own  times,  that 
the  times  are  themselves  qualified  by  what  preceded  them, 
and  that  there  are  periods  of  transition  in  history  in  which 
the  thought  and  action  of  the  individual  are  intimately 
involved.  We  hold  that  Rationalism  is  such  a  period  of 
transition. 

The  prevailing  tendency  of  the  understanding  was  at  that 
time  not  confined  to  religion,  but  extended  to  other  depart- 
ments.   Not  only  Christianity,  but  other  phenomena  in  history, 


THE  SUPERNATUrJALISTS. 


95 


were  apprehended  by  the  age  with  only  partial  intelligence. 
Even  the  religions  of  other  nations  passed  as  only  the  pro- 
duction of  a  superstitious,  overgrown  imagination,  or  even 
of  a  crafty,  priestly  deception.  The  profoundest  relations  of 
art  were  ignored;  it  was  looked  at,  at  most,  as  an  insipid 
imitation  of  nature,  while  nature,  in  its  turn,  was  observed 
by  many  with  cold  and  soulless  eyes,  so  that  Schiller's  charge 
against  Christianity,  in  his  Gods  of  Greece,  applies  far  more 
forcibly  to  Rationalism,  according  to  which  everything  in  nature 
moves  by  abitrary  mechanical  laws,  as  if  around  a  spindle. 
And  it  is  most  remarkable  that  the  rationalistic  (in  the  or- 
dinary acceptation  of  the  term),  dry,  mechanical  thinking, 
deprived  as  it  was  of  all  poetry,  overcame  the  Supernaturalists, 
who,  as  far  as  their  Christian  relations  were  concerned,  enter- 
ed into  conflict  with  Rationalism.  Though  these  were  oppo- 
nents of  the  Rationalists  in  the  theological  field,  they  never- 
theless stood  on  the  same  platform  with  them.  Even  nature 
was  also  to  the  Supernaturalists  a  dead  machine,  set  up  by 
the  Creator  once  for  all;  and  they  were  dissatisfied  with  every 
thing  that  could  not  be  apprehended  by  reason.  Yet  if  they 
seemed  to  be  content  with  what  was  above  reason,  they  did 
not  do  it  so  much  from  any  taste  or  friendliness  for  the 
miraculous  and  mysterious  as  from  obedience  to  command, 
and  from  fear  of  offending  the  majesty  of  God  by  their  un- 
belief. They,  too,  would  have  greatly  preferred  a  thoroughly 
comprehensible  religion;  but  since  it  had  pleased  God  to 
open  higher  views  in  an  extraordinary  manner,  by  means  of 
a  revelation,  and  to  support  it  by  miracles,  these  men  were 
modest  enough  to  subject  reason  to  faith,  and  to  submit  to 
the  enjoined  necessity.  Nature  was  to  them  just  as  dead 
and  godless,  and  as  destitute  of  emotion  and  spirit,  as  it  was 
to  the  Rationalists;  only  they  did  concede  that  God  some- 
times interferes  with  the  harsh  laws  of  nature,  and  turns  a 
whael  of  the  machine  in  a  different  direction,  so  as  to  pro- 
duce a  miracle.  But  since  they  could  not  explain  the  inward 
miracles  of  the  Spirit,  the  effects  of  divine  grace,  in  the  same 
mechanical  way,  they  gave  them  up,  and,  with  few  points  of 
variance,  inclined  to  the  views  of  their  opponents.    But  they 


96 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


retained  the  validity  of  the  doctrines  of  redemption  by  Christ 
and  of  justification  by  faith,  while  their  morality,  borrowed 
from  other  sources,  and  mostly  from  the  heathen  systems, 
was  independent  of  this  faith,  and  only  accompanied  it,  in- 
stead of  being  vitally  developed  from  it. 

The  highly  respectable  Reinhard  appears  before  us  as 
the  champion  of  this  kind  of  faith  in  revelation, — Super- 
naturalism.  He  was  at  once  famous  as  a  pulpit-orator,  as  a 
man,  and  as  a  Christian.  To  relieve  the  remainder  of  the 
present  lecture  by  a  personal  portrait,  we  will  speak  further 
of  this  very  useful  man  and  his  thinking  and  teaching,  for 
which  we  shall  be  greatly  indebted  to  his  own  Confessions.1 

Francis  Volkmar  Reinhard  was  born  on  the  12th  of  March, 
1753,  at  Yohenstrauss,  a  little  borough  in  the  Duchy  of  Sulz- 
bach,  where  his  father  was  preacher.  The  tendency  of  his 
mind  had  been  predominant  in  his  father.  A  strictly  logical 
and  analytical  division  was,  in  the  latter's  opinion,  the  chief 
recommendation  of  a  good  sermon;  and  thus  the  beautiful 
virtue  of  order  in  a  discourse  was  early  impressed  upon  the 
mind  of  the  boy.  So  much  was  this,  the  fact,  that  when  he 
was  only  between  ten  and  twelve  years  old,  on  returning 
home  from  church  he  could  write  down  from  memory  all  the 
chief  points  of  his  father's  sermons  to  which  he  had  listened. 
w  From  this  time  forward,"  says  Reinhard  himself,  u  every  ser- 
mon was  lost  to  me  which  either  had  no  plan  or  whose  plan 
I  could  not  discover;  and  this  was  the  principal  reason  why 
I  could  acquire  no  taste  for  most  of  the  sermons  that  I  heard 
in  many  places."  We  therefore  see  already  a  preponderance 
of  the  logical,  analytical,  and  formal  understanding  over  the 
other  faculties.  A  boy  of  only  twelve  years  of  age,  who  was 
impressed  by  no  sermon  unless  logically  arranged,  when  this 
is  the  very  age  when  the  heart  and  imagination  are  most  apt 
to  be  stirred  by  isolated  forcible  and  beautiful  passages,  is 
a  remarkable  phenomenon,  and  is  intimately  connected  with 
kindred  manifestations  of  the  times.  Did  Augustine,  Luther, 
Arndt,  Spener,  Zinzendorf,  Lavater,  or  Herder  have  any  thing 

1  Geständnisse,  seine  Predigten  und  seine  Bildung  zum  Prediger  betreffend, 
2nd  Ed.  Sulzbach,  1811. 


F.  V.  REINHARD  S  EDUCATION. 


97 


similar  to  relate  of  their  youthful  impressions?  We  would  ex- 
pect such  a  thing  from  Kant  sooner  than  from  them. 

Reinhard's  further  education  also  tended  to  a  solid  im- 
provement of  the  understanding.  His  power  of  thinking  was 
strengthened  by  the  study  of  the  classics,  and,  although  the 
young  man  had  a  taste  for  poetry,  it  was  chiefly  the  rational, 
reflective  poetry  of  Haller,  which,  as  he  himself  confesses, 
produced  more  effect  upon  his  reason  than  upon  his  imagina- 
tion, and  which,  he  frankly  says,  induced  his  dryness  of 
style.  But  Klop stock,  whose  Messiah  he  became  acquainted 
with  in  the  Gymnasium  at  Regensburg,  exerted  a  greater  in- 
fluence upon  his  imagination;  yet  this  influence  was  only 
partial,  and  endured  for  a  short  time.  It  was  owing  to  the 
strict,  philological  discipline  that  prevailed  in  the  gymnasium 
at  that  time,  and  to  the  Latin  breast-pole,  as  Reinhard  himself 
termed  it,  that  the  tension  of  his  imagination  was  not  over- 
strained. With  the  philological  discipline  that  then  prevailed 
in  the  German  gymnasia  there  was  associated  the  ecclesi- 
astical, which  manifested  itself  in  the  regular  attendance  at 
public  services.  But  both  these  elements, — the  heathen  and 
philological,  and  the  Christian  and  ecclesiastical,  —  were  very 
distinct;  they  did  not  enter  into  any  vital  relation  with  each 
other ;  there  did  not  arise  an  active  contemplation  of  heathen- 
dom in  the  school  nor  of  Christianity  in  the  church;  both 
were  treated  as  separate  material,  each  one  in  dry  and  cold 
distinctness.  Therefore,  the  two  elements  could  move  on 
harmoniously  together, — and  this  was  true  in  Reinhard's 
case. 

Reinhard  brought  from  home  his  best  treasure,  the  Bible. 
He  had  commenced  to  read  it  when  a  boy  of  five  years  of 
age,  and  carried  on  its  study  without  the  omission  of  a  day. 
He  continued  this  good  exercise  while  a  youth  at  the  gym- 
nasium. "I  seized  the  Bible,"  he  tells  us,  "whenever  I  wished 
to  be  taught,  encouraged,  or  consoled;  and  I  there  found  all 
I  needed  in  so  much  abundance,  that  it  never  occurred  to  me 
to  look  about  for  other  means  ot  edification."  It  is  remark- 
able that  this  man,  who,  for  a  long  time  afterward,  had  the 
reputation  of  being  the  first  pulpit- orator  of  Protestant  Ger- 


98 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


many,  had  a  great  distate  for  the  reading  of  all  sermons; 
and  it  is  still  more  astonishing  that,  at  this  very  time,  his 
feeble  health  made  him  very  dubious  concerning  his  adoption 
of  the  ministerial  vocation.  However,  he  entered  upon  the 
study  of  theology  in  the  University  of  Wittenberg.  But  he 
applied  himself  more  to  learned  than  to  practical  studies,  and 
the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans  were  his  principal  instructors. 
Reinhard  greatly  rejoiced  afterward  that  Demosthenes  had 
been  his  model  in  pulpit-eloquence,  and  who  will  deny  that 
the  study  of  the  classics  has  always  exerted  a  cultivating 
and  purifying  influence  upon  the  Christian  orator?  This  fact 
was  recognized  particularly  by  the  sound  sense  of  the  Re- 
formers, and  Reinhardt  concise,  chaste  language  affords  an 
eloquent  testimony  to  the  advantage  of  the  study  of  the 
ancients.  However,  it  must  not  be  forgotten,  that  the  Chris- 
tian sermon,  from  its  very  nature,  is  founded  upon  quite  a 
different  basis,  and  aims  at  quite  a  different  object,  from  those 
found  in  the  orations  of  Cicero  or  Demosthenes.  Herder  has 
triumphantly  established  this  fact,  while  Reinhard,  as  it  seems 
to  us,  was  entirely  too  slavish  in  his  attachment  to  the  models 
furnished  by  the  ancient  orators. 

He  also  formed  his  ethics  chiefly  from  the  moral  systems 
of  Aristotle,  Arrian,  and  Seneca;  and  he  aimed  to  unite  the 
heathen  ethics  more  by  the  exterior  method  of  combination 
with  Biblical  and  Christian  morality  than  to  possess  himself 
of  the  Christian  principle,  as  vastly  different  from  the  heathen. 
The  mystical  philosophy  of  Crusius,  which  established  it  upon 
this  independent  basis,  exerted  only  a  temporary  influence 
upon  him.  During  the  quiet  progress  of  Reinhard's  theo- 
logical studies,  he  does  not  seem  to  have  had  such  conflicts 
as  many  young  theologians  have  been  troubled  with  during 
their  student-life.  His  battles  were  reserved  for  the  decisive 
years  of  his  official  labors. 

After  hearing  philosophical  lectures  for  some  time  at  the 
University,  he  became  Doctor  of  Divinity  and  Professor  in 
ordinary  of  Theology  in  1782.  It  was  now  for  the  first 
time,  when  duty  made  it  imperative  to  have  definite  convic- 
tions, and  to  teach  them  to  others,  that  there  arose  the  ne- 


reinhaed's  confession  of  inward  conflicts.  99 

cessity  of  a  conflict  in  his  own  mind.  The  question  as  to 
the  relation  of  reason  and  philosophy  to  revelation  and  to 
life  and  conscience,  in  which  he  had  only  interested  himself 
heretofore  theoretically,  just  as  with  any  other  philosophical 
problem,  now  presented  itself  to  him  as  a  vital  and  conscien- 
tious question.  Let  us  hear  the  eloquent  man  himself  on  this 
point.  "I  strive  in  vain,"  says  he,  in  his  Confessions,  "to 
describe  the  sad  conflict  in  which  I  was  involved  every  morn- 
ing as  I  prepared  myself  for  my  lecture,  and  which  brought 
me  so  much  distress  and  perplexity.  I  trembled  at  the  thought 
of  speaking  a  word  to  a  young  man  wrhich  might  contain  a 
secret  error.  There  were  a  thousand  things  for  me  to  men- 
tion and  explain,  that  were  so  problematical  to  me  that  I  could 
not  arrive  at  any  certain  conviction  of  them  myself.  When 
the  hour  came  that  called  me  to  my  lecture,  I  still  went  up 
and  down  in  my  room  with  tears  in  my  eyes,  most  impor- 
tunately praying  to  God  that  he  would  so  lead  me  that  I 
might  say  nothing  detrimental  to  religion  and  morality.  I 
had  often  to  take  the  greatest  pains  lest  my  secret  trouble 
should  become  perceptible  to  my  hearers.  But  with  all  the 
uncertainty  of  my  knowledge  at  this  period, — an  uncertainty 
which  ma'de  me  doubt  what  I  had  formerly  held  to  be  ir- 
refutable,— there  remained  two  principles  unshaken:  first,  to 
explain  nothing  in  philosophy  which  conflicted  with  my  moral 
feeling,  and  to  maintain  nothing  in  theology  which  opposed 
the  plain  statements  of  the  Bible.  The  latter  kept  me  in  the 
middle  way,  where  I  had  sufficient  freedom  for  proof,  without 
becoming  lost  at  every  step.  But  I  will  not  omit  to  mention, 
that  I  was  aided  by  the  prepossessions  of  youth.  When  a  child, 
I  had  read  the  Bible  as  God's  Word  to  men,  and  had  never 
ceased  to  regard  it  in  this  light ;  thus  it  was  so  holy  to  me, 
and  its  authority  so  decisive,  that  a  statement  from  any 
source  which  conflicted  with  it,  stirred  up  my  religious  feeling 
as  much  as  an  immoral  assertion  would  have  shocked  my 
moral  sense.  ...  It  was  a  matter  of  conscience  to  me 
not  to  allow  myself  to  be  drawn  into  antagonism  to  a  book 
which  brings  divine  instruction  to  so  large  a  portion  of  our 
race ;  whose  divine  power  I  have  often  felt  in  my  own  heart, 


100  HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


and  to  which  my  whole  nature  is  ever  becoming  more  attached. 
Moreover,  I  was  born  in  a  church  which  is  the  real  kingdom 
of  the  Scriptures,  where  they  enjoy  unlimited  sway,  and  whose 
entire  theology  is  determined  by  them.  The  Scriptures,  if 
not  made  artificial  and  violently  distorted,  seemed  to  me  more 
adapted  to  this  church  than  was  the  creed  of  any  other 
Christian,  religious  party.  It  therefore  came  to  pass,  that, 
though  my  inner  disturbance  was  so  great,  and  I  had  to 
combat  doubts  of  all  kinds  so  long,  I  could  not  only  lecture 
upon  the  doctrines  of  the  evangelical  church  from  the  be- 
ginning, but  I  could  only  satisfy  my  conscience  by  being  com- 
pelled to  do  it.  My  inner  joy  gradually  became  more  fun- 
damental and  general,  because  I  continually  grew  more  con- 
vinced that  the  true  doctrines  of  the  Scriptures  are  too  deeply 
contained  in  the  church  to  be  overlooked  or  expelled  by  the 
arts  of  interpretation." 

This  confession  of  the  famous  man  is  highly  valuable  to 
us,  as  much  because  it  furnishes  us  with  a  personal  character- 
istic as  because  it  describes  the  features  of  those  times,  and 
particularly  of  Supernaturalism,  which,  we  have  said,  was  dis- 
tinguished more  for  its  conscientiousness  than  for  free  and 
hearty  attachment  to  faith  in  the  Bible  and  revelation.  Such 
conscientiousness  is  ever  worthy  of  honor,  and  this  confession 
is  valuable,  besides,  as  indicating  the  struggle  which  that  honest 
mind  had  to  pass  through.  But  there  might  have  followed 
a  more  happy  result  of  the  conflict  in  the  present  instance. 
There  occurred  rather  a  peaceful  agreement  with  the  Bible 
than  a  joyous  consciousness  and  proper  enjoyment  of  its 
splendor.  Reinhard  termed  his  respect  for  the  Bible  "the 
early  cure  of  his  youth";  he  held  it  to  be  dangerous  and 
sinful  to  come  into  opposition  to  it,  and  he  avoided  the  danger. 
And  as  he  confided  in  it  from  his  youth,  and  was  blessed  by 
it  in  forming  his  opinions,  it  became  more  to  him  a  foreign 
power,  which  he  would  not  insult,  and  which  could  only  bless 
him,  than  a  friend  whom  he  would  not  forsake  at  any  price. 

Reinhard' s  confession,  however,  is  rather  the  painful 
expression  of  the  candid  conscience  than  the  frank  utterance 
of  the  heart.  The  Bible  has  in  it  more  of  a  negative  and 


reinhard's  fear  of  the  charge  of  mysticism.  101 

defensive,  than  of  a  positive  and  definitive  value ;  and  is  rather 
a  barrier  to  arbitrary  inquiry  than  a  living  fountain  of  hearty 
joy.  We  do  not  mean  that  the  pious,  frank  thinker  had  not  ex- 
perienced the  blessing  of  the  Scriptures  in  his  own  heart, 
for  his  exemplary  life  furnishes  the  most  beautiful  evidence 
of  this.  But  he  seems  to  have  avoided  the  expression  of  his 
experience  of  heart,  lest  he  might  incur  the  charge  of  mys- 
ticism. Everything  seems  to  have  been  the  result  of  negative 
proof,  and  not  the  triumph  of  a  state  of  feeling,  which  is 
more  mighty  than  all  reasoning;  for  the  ghost  of  mysticism 
was  as  much  in  dread  of  the  orthodox  Reinhard  as  of  any 
Rationalist.  This  exterior  relation  to  the  Scriptures,  as  to  a 
mere  rule  for  our  thinking,  will  become  much  more  perceptible 
o  us  in  Reinhardt  style  of  preaching,  of  which  we  will  speak 
in  the  next  lecture,  in  connection  with  other  phenomena  of 
the  timei. 


LECTURE  VL 


REINHARD^  STYLE  OF  PREACHING.  —  NIEMETER,  TZSCHIRNER, 
AMMON. — INFLUENCE  OF  LATER  LITERATURE  ON  RELIGION 
AND  THEOLOGY.  —  SCHILLER,  AND  HIS  RELATION  TO  CHRIS- 
TIANITY. 

In  the  last  lecture  we  stopped  in  the  middle  of  our  con- 
trast between  Rationalism  and  Supernaturalism,  when  the 
picture  of  Reinhard  arose  before  us  as  of  a  man  who,  after 
having  serious,  conscientious  conflicts,  arrived  at  Supernatur- 
alism, or  strict  faith  in  revelation.  We  then  found  Reinhard 
on  the  ground  of  conservative  Protestantism,  as  opposed  to 
negative  Rationalism.  We  remarked,  however,  at  the  same 
time,  that  Reinhard,  in  spite  of  his  great  intelligence,  his 
partiality  for  the  classic  models  of  antiquity,  his  aversion  to 
true  poetry,1  and,  above  all,  his  great  fear  of  being  called  a 
mystic,  stood  upon  the  same  barren  soil  with  the  Rationalists. 
His  general  view  of  life  was  thoroughly  rationalistic,  though 
his  system  of  doctrines  was  an  endorsement  of  strictly  Bib- 
lical orthodoxy.  The  deeper  spirit  of  the  Bible,  in  its  orig- 
inal freshness  of  life,  as  Herder,  with  his  oriental  sympathy, 
knew  how  to  embrace  it,  evaporated,  or  rather  hardened,  be- 
neath his  hands  into  an  abstract,  colorless  conception;  and 
however  slightly  Reinhard  adhered  to  the  Kantian  philosophy, 
we  must  remember  that  there  is  a  certain  connection  between 
the  Kantian  thinking  and  that  of  Reinhard. 

1  See,  for  example,  his  Brief  an  Pölitz  über  das  Ideale,  in  Pölitz's 
Leben  und  Wirken  Reinhardt,  p.  224  if.  (Leipzig,  1815);  also  his  opinion 
on  F.  Jacobi,  whom  he  could  not  understand.  Idem,  p.  297. 


REINHARDTS  SERMONS. 


103 


Reinhardt  Supernaturalism  is  external,  and  while  it  anx- 
iously retains  isolated  passages  and  the  history  of  the  Bible, 
it  yet  passes  over  the  real  genius  of  the  Scriptures.  As  a 
specimen,  Reinhard  regarded  the  account  of  the  fall  of  man 
as  a  veritable  history,  but  in  order  to  explain  the  entrance 
of  death  into  the  world  as  the  result  of  the  first  sin,  he  took 
refuge  in  the  wonderful  supposition  that  the  tree  of  the  knowl- 
edge of  good  and  evil  was  only  an  ordinary  poisonous  tree: 
and  that  the  eating  of  its  fruit  produced  death  as  a  natural 
result.  Here,  Rationalism,  which  is  the  sophistry  of  the  mind, 
crept  in  upon  the  honest  man,  and  his  great  desire  to  explain 
a  miracle  led  him  to  the  marvellous  and  dangerous.  He  saved 
the  shell,  but  cast  off  the  kernel,  which  is  the  essential  doc- 
trine. We  might  thus  adduce  many  examples  from  Reinhard's 
system  of  doctrines  to  show  how,  besides  many  other  ex- 
amples, he  coldly  treated  the  relation  of  God  to  the  world 
and  to  the  human  soul.  But  we  find  Reinhard's  most  inti- 
mate relation  to  Rationalism  in  his  sermons,  and  it  is  of  them 
that  we  now  proceed  to  speak. 

There  was  a  time  when  Reinhard's  sermons  were  unquali- 
fiedly recommended  to  young  theologians  as  model  discourses, 
and  they  are  still  highly  esteemed  by  many  people.  They 
deserve  it,  too,  in  many  respects.  They  possess  such  a  serious 
moral  sense,  genuine  piety,  and  purity  of  view,  as  can  only  be 
acquired  by  personal  goodness  and  moral  conflicts.  A  rich 
treasure  of  knowledge  of  human  nature  is  presented  to  us; 
the  language  is  appropriate,  dignified,  concise;  there  is  nothing 
exaggerated,  ornamental,  or  overstrained;  and  what  gives  to 
these  sermons  their  great  historical  importance,  is  the  fact 
that,  for  the  most  part,  they  deal  with  the  great  events  of  the 
times,  as  they  affected  Germany,  and  particularly  oppressed 
Saxony.  Some  of  these  sermons  were  delivered  during 
the  time  Reinhard  was  at  Wittenberg,  but  the  most  of  them 
when  he  was  principal  Court-Preacher  at  Dresden,  which  posi- 
tion he  accepted  in  1792,  and  filled  with  great  usefulness  until 
his  death,  in  1812. 

Reinhard,  in  his  sermons,  gained  his  way  to  the  heart  by 
means  of  an  understanding  that  pursued  a  logical,  connected, 


104 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


and  progressive  method.  This  treatment,  which  avoided  every- 
thing poetical,  figurative,  and  contemplative,  and  yet  felt  com- 
pelled to  give  a  figurative  expression  to  Scriptural  language, 
so  as  to  convert  it  into  an  abstract  lesson,  was  very  much 
admired  by  those  who  boasted  a  religion  above  that  of  the 
masses,  and  called  themselves  educated.  Reinhard  was  re- 
commended as  the  model  of  all  models,  and,  naturally  enough, 
he  was  badly  imitated,  and  often  in  the  wrong  place.  Thus 
it  soon  came  to  pass,  that,  if  a  sermon  was  ever  so  insipid, 
trivial,  and  empty,  it  made  its  fortune  at  the  hands  of  the 
reviewer  if  it  was  properly  divided;  that  is,  well  arranged, 
measured,  and  squared;  every  division  just  as  large  as  the 
rest ;  each  chief  department  nicely  laid  off  in  its  proper  sub- 
divisions; and,  above  all,  the  theme  of  the  discourse  changed 
into  a  pulpit-theorem,  which  began  best  with,  "How."  But 
woe  to  him  who  explained  a  figurative  statement  in  an  ornate 
style,  and  clothed  the  skeleton  of  his  logical  division  with  flesh 
and  blood!  He  would  certainly  be  decried  as  a  mystic,  a 
"fog-maker,  and  a  waverer."  Hence  Lavater's  and  Herder's 
sermons  were  but  lightly  esteemed  during  this  period  of  mental 
aridity.1  As  an  example  of  the  extreme  pedantry  of  the  period, 
a  certain  critic  charged  Reinhard  himself  with  commencing 
one  of  his  sermons  with  three  short  syllables!  And  such 
trifles  passed  for  homiletic  wisdom.2 

Very  naturally,  the  imitators  of  Reinhardt  sermons  attempted 
a  miserable  copy  of  their  outward  form ;  the  fullness  of  ideas, 
which  we  would  not  in  the  least  deny  him,  seemed  to  them 
to  have  been  already  exhausted  by  their  master.  Wherefore 
the  danger  was  seriously  expressed,  of  "  preaching  themselves 
out,"  though  there  was  no  lack  of  prescriptions  for  the  remedy 
for  this  homiletic  consumptive  fever.  No  period  has  been 
richer  in  journals  and  magazines  for  preachers.  The  more 
the  Scriptures  had  been  departed  from  in  preaching,  the 
way  b^ck  to  which  was  not  again  found,  the  greater  became 

1  Indeed,  in  Lentz's  Geschichte  der  christlichen  Homiletik  (Brunswick, 
1839),  Herder  is  passed  over  in  silence,  and  such  a  judgment  is  passed 
upon  Lavater  (Vol.  II.  p.  330)  as  fully  confirms  what  we  have  said. 

2  See  Pölitz,  in  the  aforementioned  work. 


reinhaed's  mode  of  treating  his  texts.  105 

the  want  of  the  useful,  and  the  excess  of  the  useless;  and 
the  words  might  be  applied  very  justly  to  many  preachers 
of  that  time :  "  They  have  forsaken  me,  the  fountain  of  living 
waters,  and  hewed  them  out  cisterns,  broken  cisterns,  that 
can  hold  no  water." 

Far  be  it  from  us  to  bring  this  charge  against  Reinhard. 
On  the  contrary,  he  always  drew  his  material  from  the  Bible, 
and  his  chief  aim  was  to  make  his  sermons  thoroughly  Scrip- 
tural. It  is  therefore  all  the  more  remarkable,  that,  notwith- 
standing his  strong  faith  in  the  Bible  and  inspiration,  he  was 
the  first  to  give  Rationalism  a  firm  hold  by  his  preaching. 
He  did  this  particularly  by  his  sophistical  art  of  giving  to 
his  Biblical  text  an  ingenious  application,  and  deducing  from 
it  a  very  unexpected  theme.  Reinhard  always  set  out  from 
the  Bible,  but  he  departed  so  far  from  it  that  he  remained 
no  longer  within  its  confines.  He  viewed  the  text  in  question 
more  as  an  exterior  handle,  or  rather  as  a  pretext,  so  that 
he  might  be  furnished  with  a  general  proposition  which, 
though  it  might  be  established  on  the  Bible,  was  certainly 
not  derived  from  it.  Thus  it  will  sometimes  strike  us,  that 
he  used  his  text  as  his  swinging-beam,  from  which  he  strove 
to  depart  as  far  as  possible  by  the  elasticity  of  his  own 
mind.  And,  as  it  frequently  happens  that  great  men  are 
enamoured  with  their  own  errors,  so  do  we  perceive  that 
Reinhard  placed  great  value  on  this  art.  Indeed,  in  his  Con- 
fessions he  informs  us  of  the  means  by  which  he  attained 
this  readiness  and  dexterity  in  the  discovery  of  odd  and  sur- 
prising topics. 

The  unfortunate  custom  at  that  time  prevalent  in  the 
Lutheran  Church,  of  being  compelled  to  preach  every  year 
upon  the  same  prescribed  passages  in  the  Gospels,  was  no 
small  impulse  to  him  in  this  respect;  and  we  must  admire 
the  principle  from  which  he  proceeded,  of  giving  as  many 
new  phases  as  possible  to  the  text.  But  they  were  not  ex- 
actly new  phases  of  the  entire  mass,  but  rather  the  outer- 
most edges  of  the  mantle,  which  he  hardly  touched  with  the 
tips  of  his  fingers,  but  to  which  he  appended  some  moral 
thought,  as  a  trail  to  a  garment.    For  example,  when  he 


106 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


explains  the  miracle  of  Healing  the  Deaf  and  Dumb  Man,  he 
derives  the  duty  of  imparting  a  certain  degree  of  festivity 
to  ail  our  actions,  because  Jesus  united  healing  with  some 
ceremonies;  or,  in  elucidating  the  Miraculous  Feeding  of  the 
Multitude,  which  the  Evangelists  record,  Reinhard  says,  that, 
under  ordinary  circumstances,  it  would  have  been  difficult  to 
keep  some  thousands  of  men  in  order  in  a  given  place  for 
several  days  without  the  oversight  of  the  police;  and  hence 
he  improved  the  occasion,  not  to  preach  on  the  Miraculous 
Feeding,  but  on  "the  silent  power  which  virtue  exerts  over 
men  by  its  presence."  We  can  therefore  ask,  if  the  Ration- 
alists have  not  thus  been  shown  the  plausible  way  of  depart- 
ing from  the  history  of  miracles,  and  of  taking  refuge  in  the 
broad  halls  of  morality? 

We  repeat,  that  Reinhard  did  not  participate  with  the 
Rationalists  in  their  shyness  of  miracles,  nor  in  their  opinions 
in  general.  He  openly  declared  in  favor  of  miracles  and  re- 
velation:1 but  even  this  is  a  proof  of  how  that  exterior, 
formal  Supernaturalism,  the  mere  acceptance  of  a  supernatural 
revelation,  without  a  penetration  of  its  spirit  and  a  deep 
grasping  of  its  vital  principle,  could  not  oppose  Rationalism 
for  a  great  while,  much  less  explode  it.  With  but  few  ex- 
ceptions, both  the  so-called  believers  in  revelation  and  in 
reason,  of  that  day,  occupied  the  same  ground  of  dry,  abstract 
intelligence;  both  kept  aloof  from  the  fresh  fountain  of  life 
and  experience,  as  they  appear  so  useful  and  refreshing  to 
us  in  Herder,  for  example.  Both  classes,  therefore,  could  not 
comprehend  what  proceeded  from  the  immediate  view  of  life, 
what  from  imagination  and  feeling,  and  what  from  the  pro- 
found principles  of  faith.  Hence  the  two  parties  were  diffi- 
cult to  understand,  and  fruitful  of  misconceptions  and  false 
conclusions.  Reinhard,  in  conformity  with  his  analytical  mind, 

1  Reinhard  testified  to  his  orthodoxy  in  his  Sermon  on  the  Reformation, 
preached  in  1800,  and  circulated  by  high  authority  throughout  the  king- 
dom of  Saxony.  But  the  excitement  produced  by  the  sermon,  with  the 
various  opinions  expressed  concerning  Reinhard's  own  meaning,  shows 
how  little  this  orthodoxy  was  in  harmony  with  the  remaining  character- 
istics of  the  man,  and  how  little  people  expected  to  find  it  in  him. 


CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  TIMES. 


107 


had  said  that  there  is  no  third  party;  either  reason  must 
succumb  to  revelation,  or  the  latter  must  yield  to  the  former; 
and  he  decided  for  the  supremacy  of  revelation.  But  during 
his  life,  and  subsequently,  there  arose  others  who  held  that 
a  harmony  of  the  two  systems  was  possible;  they  had  a 
lax  conception  of  revelation,  and  sought  to  balance  it  in  va- 
rious ways  with  reason,  so  that  soon  there  was  frequent  men- 
tion of  rational  Supernaturalism  and  supernatural  Ration- 
alism.1 

We  shall  not  here  enter  into  these  controversies.  We  would 
only  state,  that  the  reconciliation  of  their  difficulties,  which 
seemed  so  hard  to  establish  in  science,  did  not  appear  alto- 
gether impossible  in  life.  We  should  describe  that  period 
erroneously  if,  as  has  been  sometimes  done,  we  assumed  that 
the  pulpits  of  Germany  were  filled  by  only  dry,  unfeeling,  and 
skeptical  preachers.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  there  was  a  degree 
of  sadness  in  some  minds  at  the  contemplation  of  the  pre- 
valent negative  tendency,  such  as  Lavater  expressed:  "  There 
are  none  but  negative  men ;  everybody  is  robbing,  there  is  no 
one  to  give ;  everything  is  destroyed,  there  is  no  one  to  build 
up;  there  is  no  earnestness,  everything  is  levity;  there  is  no 
dignity,  everything  is  ridicule ;  there  is  no  purpose,  everything 
is  side-aims."2  But  while  such  expressions  are  pardonable, 
they  are  not  strictly  correct,  and  are  not  a  standard  by  which 
to  estimate  the  times.  There  were  among  the  most  positive 
Rationalists  respectable  men  enough  who  had  the  best  dis- 
position to  construct  and  to  edify,  who  zealously  labored  to 
improve  the  people  and  the  schools,  and  greatly  edified  by 
their  thoroughly  practical  sermons,  because  they  kept  their 
pulpits  free  from  all  unnecessary  dogmatizing,  and  preached 
what  was  for  the  benefit  of  all.  Moreover,  there  were  many 
who,  though  affected  by  the  influences  of  Rationalism,  did 
not  fully  surrender  themselves  to  its  dominion,  but  sought 
to  retain  a  beneficial  balance  between  understanding  and  feel- 
ing, and  who,  with  a  noble  enthusiasm,  advanced  the  right, 

1  Comp.  Tzschirner's  Briefe,  occasioned  by  Reinhard's  Geständnisse. 
Leipzig,  1811. 

2  Lavater  to  Jacobi.  See  Jacobi's  Werke,  Vol.  IV.  Sect.  3.  p.  127. 
Vol.  II.— 8 


108 


HISTORY  OP  THE  CHURCH. 


with  the  view  of  creating  a  better  entrance  of  Christianity 
into  the  minds  of  all  well-meaning  persons. 

I  am  reminded  of  Augustus  Herman  Niemeyer,  descended 
on  his  mother's  side  from  A.  H.  Francke,  who  was  trained 
at  the  Royal  Grammar-School  of  Halle,  and  became  Director 
of  the  institutions  of  Francke,  and  Chancellor  of  the  Uni- 
versity. He  combined  a  mild  type  of  piety  with  noble 
humanity.  Niemeyer  was  cultivated  in  various  ways  by  both 
science  and  life,  but  especially  by  his  travels ;  and  through- 
out his  career,  he  was  a  faithful  guide  of  youth.  His  Character- 
istics of  the  Bible,  published  anonymously  when  a  young  man, 
won  for  him  a  wide  circle  of  readers,  and  called  forth  the 
most  enthusiastic  plaudits.  We  gladly  call  to  mind  his  spirit- 
ual poems,  which,  though  not  of  the  highest  flight,  were  distin- 
guished for  their  simple  heartiness.1  And  who  is  not  acquainted 
with  his  writings  on  education,  which  are  still  very  highly 
and  justly  appreciated,  because  of  their  perspicuity  and  solidity? 
We  also  do  not  forget  that  Niemeyer's  house  was  for  a  long 
time  a  place  of  meeting  for  all  distinguished  foreigners,  and 
that  in  the  midst  of  the  most  difficult  times  and  relations, 
and  of  very  dangerous  complications,  he  could  win  the  respect 
of  those  with  whom  he  associated.2  We  cannot  therefore 
hesitate  to  attribute  to  such  labors  the  great  blessings  needed 
in  those  times. 

I  also  call  to  mind  Henry  Gottlieb  Tzschirner,  Professor 
and  Superintendent  at  Leipzig,  the  zealous  champion  of  Prot- 
estantism, and  the  faithful  defender  of  its  rights  against  the 
usurpations  of  the  Romish  church,  and  whose  vigorous  language 
even  yet  produces  good  results.  Nor  can  I  forget  Christopher 
Frederick  von  Ammon,  the  successor  of  Reinhard  at  Dresden, 
who,  by  his  attempt  to  unite  faith  and  knowledge,  did  not 
escape  the  appearance  of  hesitation  in  his  own  principles, 
who  acquired  a  deserved  support  by  his  lofty  view  of  Chris- 
tianity unfolding  itself  into  an  universal  religion,  by  his  varied 
editions  of  his  Ethics,  and  by  his  majestic  pulpit-eloquence. 

*  Thus  the  hymn:  "I  know  in  whom  I  believe,"  and  others. 

*  Compare  Jacobs  and  Gruber,  Zur  Erinnerung  an  Niemeyer's  Leben 
u  ed  Wirken.  Halle,  1830. 


INFLUENCE  OF  LITERATURE  ON  THEOLOGY.  109 

However,  we  cannot  give  a  comprehensive  history  of  Prot- 
estant theology,  least  of  all,  of  its  scientific  character.  We 
now  prefer  to  leave  the  strictly  theological  department,  and, 
from  oar  present  general  position,  look  around  for  those 
broader  formative  principles  which,  existing  in  the  times,  and 
related  to  the  Kantian  philosophy,  and  in  part  limited  by  it, 
have  given  a  new  direction  to  moral  and  civil  life  in  its  com- 
pleteness and  greatness,  and  have  thus  been  of  much  greater 
influence  upon  the  formation  of  religious  ideas  and  the  de- 
velopment of  Protestantism  than  could  have  been  derived 
from  the  book-learning  of  the  theologians  as  a  class,  or,  per- 
haps, from  the  pastors  of  official  appointment.  Here  we  come 
first  to  poetry  and  literature,  and  then  to  education. 

Let  us  now  speak  of  literature.  We  took  occasion  in 
our  former  course  of  lectures  (see  Volume  I.)  to  notice 
how  very  much  the  elevation  of  German  literature  within  forty 
years,  after  the  time  of  Lessing,  Klopstock  and  Wleland, 
reacted  upon  religious  and  moral  thinking,  and  at  the  same 
time  compelled  Protestant  theology  to  get  out  of  its  scholastic 
stiffness,  and  adapt  itself  to  modern  forms  of  thought.  For 
this  reason  we  commenced  this  course  with  that  significant 
phenomenon,  J.  G.  Herder,  who,  more  than  any  one  else,  has 
contributed  a  quickening,  exciting,  and  in  part  transforming 
influence  upon  both  the  poetic-literary  and  theological  depart- 
ments. We  now  take  a  further  step  with  Schiller  and  Goethe, 
whose  names  are  supposed  by  many  to  indicate  the  culmina- 
ting point  of  German  national  culture.  To  carry  out  our 
purpose,  we  prefer  to  separate  the  two  names;  and  though 
Goethe  was  the  elder,  we  will  speak  first  of  Schiller,  for  his 
influence  was  manifested  in  a  decisive  manner  upon  German 
thought  earlier  than  that  of  Goethe.  Schiller's  opinions,  as 
they  took  shape  in  his  own  mind,  and  as  he  promulgated 
them,  were  intimately  connected  with  the  Kantian  philosophy, 
which  is  yet  fresh  in  our  memory,  while  Goethe's  importance, 
both  for  his  own  and  our  time,  can  only  be  comprehended  in 
relation  with  the  later  philosophical  developments  connected 
with  Schelling  and  Hegel. 

It  may  appear  strange  if  I  should  characterize  Schiller  as 


110 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


the  representative  of  the  rationalistic  culture  of  the  times, 
as  expressed  in  life,  outside  the  bounds  of  the  church  and  theo- 
logical science.  It  may  be  reasonably  asked :  How  could  this  be 
the  case,  if  the  nature  of  Rationalism,  as  we  have  seen  it,  con- 
sists in  a  certain  harshness  and  aridity  of  the  understanding? 
How  does  it  come  that  the  fervid,  imaginative  poet  finds  his 
place  here?  I  must  explain  myself  more  clearly.  I  must  first 
say,  that  we  should  distinguish  between  the  higher  Rationalism 
of  humanity  and  its  double-sighted  compeer,  trivial  and  vulgar 
Rationalism.  But  this  explanation  is  not  sufficient,  since  the 
higher  Rationalism,  so  far  as  we  have  learned  it,  suffered 
in  the  main  from  a  certain  preponderating  negativeness  of 
the  understanding,  which  entrapped  the  defenders  of  the  op- 
posite system,  as  was  the  case  with  Reinhard.  Now,  it  was 
Schiller  who  constituted  a  powerful  opposition  to  this  very 
negativeness ;  and  we  therefore  really  find  that  Reinhard,  for 
example,  was  not  at  all  in  sympathy  with  Schiller's  fervid 
genius,  but  declared  that  the  poem  on  Joy,  among  others, 
was  the  outburst  of  an  excited  brain.1 

How  does  it  happen,  therefore,  we  must  again  ask,  that 
we  place  Schiller  in  connection  with  Rationalism?  I  reply: 
Because,  with  all  the  poetic  form  which  Schiller  employed  as 
a  master,  the  contents  of  many  of  his  poems,  and  the  tenor 
of  the  man's  life,  harmonize  with  the  rationalistic  tendencies; 
and  by  the  aid  of  that  beautiful,  earnest  language  of  which 
the  dull  preachers  of  Rationalism  were  devoid,  he  knew  how 
to  confer  upon  it  that  desired  ideality  which  had  been  striven 
after  in  vain  by  others.  We  must  here  distinguish  Schiller's 
pure  poetic  genius,  which  rose  high  above  rationalistic 
thought,  and,  under  other  circumstances,  revelled  in  the  mystic 
regions  of  enthusiasm,  from  his  individual  philosophical  cult- 
ure, and  his  controlling  religious  and  moral  principles,  which, 
if  we  leave  out  his  obscure  youthful  efforts,  were  the  very 
soul  of  the  most  of  his  poems.2  Schiller  was  a  disciple  of 

1  See  Reinhardts  Letter  to  Pölitz,  in  the  latter's  Leben  und  Charak- 
teristik Beinhard's,  p.  218  f. 

2  Interesting  proofs  of  this  are  given  in  Boas'  recent  Jugendgeschichte 
Schiller's  (Hanover,  1856),  which  throws  much  light  on  his  intellectual  growth. 


schiller's  influence  a  requirement  of  his  times.  Ill 

Kant,  and  this  explains  a  great  deal;  he  was  an  adherent 
of  the  critical  philosophy;  and,  proceeding  thence,  he  con- 
tributed greatly  to  the  spread  of  Kantian  Rationalism  in  the 
hearts  of  the  German  people  by  means  of  his  poetic  simpli- 
fication of  it.  But  we  make  no  charge  against  him  on  this 
score.  On  the  contrary,  in  opposition  to  the  materialistic  and 
frivolous  tendencies  which  had  been  partially  extended  by  the 
school  of  Wieland,  the  world  needed  an  impulse  toward  a 
higher  life,  a  moral  invigoration,  and  a  direction  to  the  invisible, 
yet  not  by  the  aid  of  hands  that  grasped  too  much,  even  though 
they  were  those  of  a  poetic,  philosophical  ideality.  In  oppo- 
sition to  the  selfish  view  which  degraded  virtue  to  a  hand- 
maid of  inordinate  appetite,  the  world  needed  an  awakening 
voice,  which  would  elevate  that  dignity  of  virtue  which  is  in- 
dependent of  all  sensual  results,  implant  an  enthusiasm  for 
it  in  the  soul,  and  direct  our  vision  from  the  dust  of  earthly 
life  toward  heaven. 

Schiller  did  this.  And  it  would  be  prejudice,  indeed,  it 
would  be  ingratitude,  or  at  least  ignorance,  not  to  acknowl- 
edge it  gladly  in  a  certain  relation;  and  it  is  a  good  sign 
when  men  of  decidedly  Christian  sentiment,  such  as  Albert 
Knapp,  in  his  beautiful  poem  in  the  Christoterpe,  1843,  have 
the  courage  to  say  to  believers  and  unbelievers,  how  much  the 
German  nation  is  indebted  to  its  Schiller.  We  can  therefore 
fully  sympathize  with  the  enthusiastic  sentiment  of  the  orator 
who  began  his  address,  on  the  occasion  of  the  unveiling  of 
Schiller's  statue  in  Stuttgart,  with  the  following  words:  "Full 
of  admiration,  buried  in  reverent  contemplation  but  inward 
pleasure,  we  thousands  stand  before  the  unveiled  statue  of 
the  lofty  poet,  the  profound  teacher  of  the  nations,  the  laborer 
upon  the  edifice  of  eternity,  and  the  dear  companion  of 
the  people.  He  is  at  once  our  pride  and  our  love."  When  we 
stand  before  Schiller's  picture,  we  can  look  with  the  same 
pleasure  upon  that  brow  which  u  thought  upon  the  lot  and 
destiny  of  humanity;"  with  the  same  joy  we  can  gaze  upon 
his  deep,  gladsome  eye,  which  sought  beauty  in  its  essential 
form;  and  feast  upon  those  eloquent  lips  which  uttered  the 


112 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


fullness  of  enchanting  song.  And  yet,  in  doing  this,  we  are 
innocent  of  the  vulgar  charge  of  idolatry. 

But  with  all  this  recognition  and  admiration  of  Schiller, 
we  must  ask:  What  was  his  relation  to  Christianity?  What 
is  his  position  in  the  historical  development  of  evangelical 
Protestantism?  Our  task  requires  an  answer  to  these  in- 
quiries ;  and  it  is  only  thus  that  we  can  speak  of  him  in  the 
present  lectures.  The  questions  have  obtruded  themselves  upon 
the  times ;  and  the  reverence  bestowed  upon  the  great  poet  at 
the  inauguration  of  his  statue,  led  to  our  previous  remarks. 
Schiller  and  Christianity  constitute  a  theme  which  has  been 
variously  treated  by  recent  authors;1  and  the  aforenamed 
orator  at  the  celebration,  Gustavus  Schwab,  has  done  well  to 
express  his  views,  for  he  has  enlightened  the  public  more 
fully  on  this  point  in  his  biography  of  the  poet  than  all  other 
biographers  have  done.2  Let  us  attempt  to  form  an  opinion 
on  these  expressions  and  the  basis  of  Schiller's  own  works. 

Schiller  was  born  (1759)  and  trained  in  Wiirtemberg,  a 
land  where  the  ancestral  Christianity  was  still  deeply  rooted. 
In  his  day,  we  find  the  same  custom  of  morning  and  evening 
devotion  that  we  observed  in  the  parental  home  of  Herder. 
Schiller's  sister  relates,  that  the  father  statedly  read  the 
morning  and  evening  prayers  in  the  family  circle,  and  when 
Schiller  was  yet  a  boy  he  listened  to  them  with  great  devotion.3 
Even  when  he  was  an  older  scholar  he  never  retired  to  bed 
without  his  evening  prayer,  which  he  offered  in  silence,  though 
he  was  embittered  toward  the  mere  exterior  form,  remarking 
that  "  he  did  not  need  any  brawling."  Paul  Gerhard's  hymns 
were  among  his  favorite  ones. 

The  family  having  settled  in  Lorch,  the  pastor  of  the  place, 
Philip  Ulrich  Moser,  to  whom  Schiller  afterward  erected  a 
monument  in  his  Robbers,  exerted  a  decidedly  moral  and 

1  Compare  Binder,  Schiller  im  Verhältniss  zum  Christenthum  (Stuttgart, 
1839);  and,  in  connection  therewith,  Schwab  to  Ullmann,  in  his  work, 
üeber  den  Oultus  des  Genius.   Hamburg,  1840. 

2  /Schiller's  Leben,  in  drei  Büchern.    Stuttgart,  1840. 

3  Schiller's  father  himself  composed  a  prayer  in  verse,  which  he  offered 
every  morning.    See  Boas,  p.  53. 


Schiller's  early  inclination  to  theology.  113 


religious  influence  upon  the  lad.  So  much  was  this  the  fact 
that  Schiller  was  some  time  pondering  the  thought  of  studying 
theology.  But  the  plan  was  frustrated  in  1773  by  his  entering 
the  ducal  military  school,  which  had  no  regard  for  future 
theologians.  Nor  was  the  institution  in  any  wise  calculated 
to  promote  the  religious  development  of  his  character.  He 
was  not,  however,  devoid  of  religious  devotions  when  in  soli- 
tude, or  afterward,  in  the  Carolinian  School  at  Stuttgart. 
They  came  to  him  in  abundance,  as  formerly  to  Frederick 
the  Great,  in  the  shape  of  military  exercises  formally  required 
of  him.  Happily,  the  early  impressions  of  pious  training  were 
not  without  their  influence  upon  Schiller.  He  still  occupied 
himself,  with  much  pleasure,  with  the  Bible,  particularly  with 
the  Psalms  and  Prophets.  He  often  poured  out  his  heart  in 
prayer,  and  even  conducted  social  religious  services.  Spirit- 
ual poetry  was  still  his  chief  pleasure,  and  thus  early  his 
youthful  imagination  expressed  itself  in  his  Moses,  a  counter- 
part to  Klopstock's  Messiah.1  The  clerical  profession  con- 
tinued his  ideal,  and  he  could  think  of  nothing  more  exalted 
than  to  announce  from  a  consecrated  place  heavenly  truths  to 
a  needy  people.2  No  one  can  read  without  emotion  and  pro- 
found sympathy  those  Sunday  morning  thoughts  in  the  year 
1777,  which  a  later  hand  has  preserved  for  us.  They  resound 
with  his  doubts  concerning  faith  in  such  a  wTay  that  we  can 
not  but  admire  the  desire  for  truth  which  animated  the  young 
thinker. 

He  said:  "God  of  Truth,  Father  of  Light!  I  look  to  Thee 
with  the  first  rays  of  the  morning  sun,  and  I  pray  to  Thee. 
Thou  beholdest  me,  0  God.  Thou  seest  from  afar  every 
emotion  of  my  trembling  heart.  Ah!  Thou  knowest,  too,  this 
burning  desire  of  my  soul  for  truth.  Often  sore  doubt  veils  my 
soul  in  night.  Thou  knowest,  0  God,  that  my  heart  frequently 
grows  anxious,  and  yearns  for  illumination  from  Thee.  Oh! 
there  has  many  times  fallen  a  kindly  beam  from  Thee  into  my  be- 

1  Even  in  his  fourteenth  year  he  had  planned  a  tragedy,  The  Chris- 
tians. Boas,  p.  97. 

2  "Has  a  hankering  after  theology,"  as  his  fellow-students  were  accus- 
tomed to  say.    Boas,  p.  103. 


114 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


nighted  soul.  I  saw  the  awful  abyss  before  me;  I  grew  giddy 
before  it,  and  I  thanked  the  Divine  Hand  which  so  kindly 
drew  me  back.  Still  remain  with  me,  my  God  and  Father, 
for  these  are  days  when  fools  pass  along  and  say  in  their 
heart:  'There  is  no  God.'  Thou  hast  reserved  me  for  evil 
days,  my  Creator,  for  days  when  superstition  rages  at  my 
right  hand  and  skepticism  at  my  left.  Here  I  stand,  and 
often  tremble  in  the  storm,  and,  oh,  the  shaking  reed  would 
break  if  Thou  didst  not  sustain  it,  mighty  Preserver  of  Thy 
creatures,  Father  of  those  who  seek  Thee! 

"What  am  I  without  truth,  without  the  guide  through  the 
labyrinths  of  life?  A  wanderer  who  is  lost  in  the  desert, 
whom  the  night  has  overtaken,  with  no  friend  or  leading  star 
to  show  him  the  path.  Doubt,  Uncertainty,  Skepticism,  you 
begin  with  torment  and  you  end  with  despair.  But  Truth, 
thou  leadest  us  safely  through  life;  thou  bearest  the  torch 
before  us  in  the  dark  vale  of  death;  and  thou  bringest  us 
back  to  heaven,  whence  thou  didst  first  come! 

"Oh,  my  God,  thus  keep  my  heart  at  rest,  in  that  holy 
stillness  in  which  truth  loves  most  of  all  to  visit  us.  The 
sun  is  not  reflected  in  the  stormy  sea,  but  its  face  beams 
forth  again  from  the  peaceful,  mirror-like  flood.  Even  thus 
do  Thou  keep  this  heart  at  rest,  that  it  may  be  able  to 
know  Thee,  0  God,  and  Jesus  Christ  whom  Thou  hast  sent ; 
for  this  alone  is  the  truth  which  strengthens  the  heart  and 
elevates  the  soul.  If  I  have  truth  I  have  Jesus,  and  if  I 
have  Jesus  I  have  God,  and  if  I  have  God  I  have  everything. 
Should  I  permit  myself,  my  God,  to  be  deprived  of  this  gem, 
this  glance  which  elevates  to  heaven,  by  the  wisdom  of  the 
world,  which  is  foolishness  before  Thee?  No!  He  who  hates 
truth  is  my  enemy,  and  him  who  seeks  it  with  simple  heart 
I  will  embrace  with  a  brothers  joy. 

"The  bell  strikes  that  calls  me  to  the  temple.  I  hasten 
thither  to  make  good  my  confession,  to  strengthen  myself  in 
truth,  and  to  prepare  myself  for  death  and  eternity.  Oh,  do 
Thou  so  lead  me,  my  Father,  and  so  open  my  heart  to  the 
impressions  of  truth,  that  I  may  be  strong  enough  to  announce 
them  to  my  friends ;  then  they  too  will  be  happy.    They  will 


sciiiller's  Sunday  morning  thoughts.  115 

know  that  Thou  art  their  God  and  Father,  that  Thou  hast 
sent  Jesus  Christ,  Thy  Son,  and  the  Spirit,  who  should  testify 
of  the  truth.  Then  will  they  have  strength  for  every  grief  of 
this  life,  and,  amid  the  sufferings  of  death,  they  will  enjoy 
the  happy  confidence  of  a  blissful  eternity.  Now,  my  God, 
Thou  mayst  take  from  me  every  dearly-loved  pleasure  of  earth, 
every  enchanting  joy,  but  only  leave  me  truth,  and  I  have 
fortune  and  joy  enough. 

"May  I  pray  to  Thee,  all-merciful  One;  may  I  weep  with 
this  quaking  heart  and  these  gushing  tears?  Then  take  pity 
upon  the  wanderers.  Of  all  the  miserable  ones  of  earth, 
they  need  Thy  help  the  most.  They  cannot  rejoice  at  Thy 
sun,  nor  at  Thy  lovely  moon,  for  night  is  in  their  soul,  and 
their  heart  is  full  of  bitter  conflict.  Ah,  take  pity  on  their 
anguish ;  let  them  hear  the  voice  of  truth,  so  that  they  may 
stand,  tremble,  and  turn  about  to  pursue  their  heavenly  call- 
ing! Bring  us  all  safely  over,  where  no  night,  or  error,  or 
doubt  shall  any  more  disturb  our  hearts;  but  where  light, 
truth  and  certainty  illuminate  the  blest,  and  where  we  shall 
eternally  know  that  Thou  art  God  our  Father,  and  that  Jesus 
Christ  is  the  image  of  Thy  glory,  through  whom  Thou  givest 
every  joy  and  blessedness! 

**Protect  us,  Savior,  Jesus  Christ, 
"Who  sittest  at  the  Father's  right! 
Oh,  be  our  shield  and  strong  defence!— 
As  dust,  are  scoffers  in  Thy  sight. 

How  long  their  derision  shall  last, 
And  here  its  defiance  shall  hurl, 
Thou  hast  forever  foreseen:  — 
Mayhap,  their  measure  is  soon  full. 

Thou  hast  died,  0  Lord,  for  their  sins, 
Though  Thou  art  reviled  by  their  scorn; 
Oh  grant,  ere  their  death-night  shall  come, 
They  may  have  a  penitent  morn!" 

Schwab  truthfully  remarks,  that  the  poem  which  concludes  this 
prayer  could  stand  in  every  orthodox  hymn-book.  But  doubt, 
fostered  by  the  philosophy  of  Voltaire,  whose  writings  Schiller 


116 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


became  acquainted  with  when  fifteen  years  old,  now  continued 
to  gain  the  upper  hand;  but  where  it  expressed  itself,  it  was 
"a  doubt  full  of  the  holy  seriousness  and  depth  of  a  soul 
panting  after  truth," 1 — something  more  akin  to  the  sentiment 
of  Rousseau  than  of  Voltaire.  His  anguish  is  openly  expressed 
in  his  philosophical  letters,  Julius  to  Raphael,  which  he  wrote 
somewhat  later.  "  Happy  time,"  says  he,  "  when,  with  veiled 
eyes,  I  reeled  through  life  like  a  drunken  man!  I  felt,  and  I 
was  happy.  Raphael  has  taught  me  to  think,  and  I  am  now 
ready  to  lament  my  own  creation.  You  have  stolen  my  faith, 
that  gave  me  peace.  You  have  taught  me  to  despise  what 
I  once  reverenced,  A  thousand  things  were  very  venerable 
to  me  before  your  sorry  wisdom  stripped  me  of  them.  I 
saw  a  multitude  of  people  going  to  church;  I  heard  their 
earnest  worship  as  they  united  in  fraternal  prayer;  I  cried 
aloud:  'That  truth  must  be  divine  which  the  best  of  men 
profess,  which  conquers  so  triumphantly  and  consoles  so  sweet- 
ly!' Your  cold  reason  has  quenched  my  enthusiasm.  'Believe 
no  one,'  you  said,  'but  your  reason;  there  is  nothing  more 
holy  than  truth.'  I  listened,  and  offered  up  all  my  opinions. 
My  reason  is  now  become  every  thing  to  me ;  it  is  my  only 
guaranty  for  divinity,  virtue,  and  immortality.  Woe  unto  me 
henceforth  if  I  come  in  conflict  with  this  sole  security!"2 

It  was  in  this  period  of  phrensy,  as  is  well  known,  that 
Schiller  published  his  Robbers.  But  it  is  remarkable  that, 
in  this  aesthetic  and  morally  disappointing  piece,  amid  the 
abortions  of  an  unrestrained  imagination,  the  venerable  and 
honored  Christian  faith  common  in  Würtemberg  appears  as 
the  foil  on  which  human  corruption  is  reflected  in  its  most 
repulsive  caricatures.  And  is  it  not  surprising  that,  in  the 
preface  to  this  performance,  Schiller  justifies  the  selection  and 
treatment  of  his  material  by  assuring  us,  that  he  wishes  to 
represent  that  active  intellectual  sentiment  which  deviates 
from  religion  and  Christianity?  "It  is  now  the  great  taste," 

1  Words  of  Binder,  in  Schwab,  p.  112. 

2  Even  later,  Schiller,  in  a  letter  to  Körner  (1787)  mentions  a  "pnre 
and  honest  faith  of  reason,"  to  which  mnst  also  belong  "the  faith  which 
alone  can  save.1'   Briefw.,  Vol.  I.  p.  122. 


SCHILLER  S  GENERAL  DEPRECIATION  OF  THE  CLERGY.    1 1  7 


says  he,  "  to  so  allow  wit  free  play  at  the  expense  of  religion 
that  one  has  no  adaptation  to  genius  who  does  not  permit 
his  godless  satire  to  bustle  about  among  the  holiest  truths  of 
religion.  The  noble  simplicity  of  the  Scriptures  must  be  ill 
treated  and  turned  into  ridicule  in  the  daily  assemblages  of 
the  so-called  witty-heads;  for  what  is  so  holy  and  serious 
that,  if  it  become  perverted,  it  cannot  be  made  ridiculous?  I 
can  hope  that  I  have  inflicted  no  base  revenge  upon  religion 
and  true  morality  when  I  hand  over  these  despisers  of  the 
Scriptures  to  the  world's  contempt,  in  the  person  of  my  most 
wicked  robbers."1  However,  he  presents  in  this  same  piece, 
in  the  character  of  Pastor  Moser,  the  picture  of  a  worthy,  or- 
thodox, and  Kantian  rationalistic  minister,  as  his  ideal  of  a 
preacher.2 

It  is  remarkable  that,  with  but  slight  exceptions,  this  is 
the  last  favorable  description  of  a  minister  in  Schiller's  works. 
We  find  him  almost  everywhere  giving  vent  to  priestly  hate, 
which  easily  tends  to  a  hatred  of  all  ecclesiasticism  and  posi- 
tive religion.  As  in  The  Bobbers  he  personified  his  ideal  of 
a  religious  teacher  in  his  revered  Moser,  so  does  his  recol- 
lection of  another  of  his  religious  instructors,  Dean  Zilling, 
who  had  confirmed  him,  and  who  was  subsequently  decried 
by  the  people  as  a  "Lutheran  Pope,"3  seem  to  have  in- 

1  Schiller  really  did  this.  After  one  of  the  robbers  had  contemptu- 
ously made  the  proposition  to  become  a  Pietist,  and  hold  devotional 
exercises,  the  other  answers:  "Right!  And  if  that  does  not  suit,  be  an 
atheist!  "We  can  strike  the  four  Evangelists  in  the  mouth,  let  our  book 
be  destroyed,  and  so  it  will  splendidly  disappear."  As  Italy  was  then 
celebrated  as  the  land  of  thieves,  Spiegelberg  speaks  the  significant 
words:  "Yes,  and  if  Germany  continues  as  it  has  commenced,  and  the 
Bible  is  outlawed,  as  there  is  now  a  fine  prospect  of,  it  is  likely  that 
in  due  time  there  can  some  good  come  out  of  Germany." 

2  The  Kantian  view  of  retribution  here  forms  the  point  on  which 
Moser  continues  the  conversation  with  Franz  Moor.  "The  thought  of 
God  awakens  a  fearful  neighbor,  named  Judge.  Man's  fate  stands  in 
fearfully  harmonious  equilibrium.  The  scales,  sinking  in  this  life,  will 
rise  in  that ;  but  rising  here,  they  will  fall  there.  What  was  temporal 
suffering  here,  will  be  eternal  triumph  there;  what  was  finite  triumph 
here,  will  there  be  infinite  despair." 

3  Schwab,  Schiller's  Leben  in  drei  Büchern,  p.  122. 


118 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


fluenced  Lim  in  his  later  opinions  of  the  church,  priest- 
hood, and  of  that  positive  religion  which,  in  his  opinion, 
was  inseparable  from  those  excrescences.  This  ill-temper 
that  he  manifested  toward  many  of  his  contemporaries 
increased  his  unfairness  toward  Christianity  in  general. 
He  could  not  affiliate  with  the  wanton  scoffs  of  Voltaire, 
but  felt  drawn  toward  Rousseau,  who  "gets  his  men  from 
Christians." 

And  here  again  we  find  a  humanity  that  towers  above 
Christianity,  and  even  dispenses  with  it!  But  that  cheap 
philosophy  of  utility  which  only  lives  at  peace  with  one's 
neighbor,  was  not  attractive  to  our  poet.  He  aimed  at  a 
higher  ideal,  one  that  lay  above  the  sphere  of  every  historical 
religion.  But  as  to  sound  religion,  he  assures  us  that  he 
does  not  adopt  any  one  form  of  all  he  is  acquainted  with; 
and  it  is  from  this  view,  which  rejects  history  and  tradition, 
that  he  could  write  to  Goethe  in  1797:  "I  must  confess  that 
I  entertain  such  a  decided  disbelief  in  the  Biblical  record 
that  your  doubts  concerning  a  single  event  seem  very  reason- 
able. To  me,  the  Bible  is  true  only  where  it  is  clear;  but 
in  all  the  passages  that  are  written  with  circumstantial  con- 
sciousness, I  am  afraid  of  a  design  and  a  later  origin."  It 
was  therefore  the  greatest  distrust  toward  every  historical 
communication,  and  the  supposition  of  an  intentional  priestly 
deception,  or  some  similar  device,  which  destroyed  his  attach- 
ment to  the  Bible.  It  was  only  what  was  clear  that  had  a 
charm  for  the  poet;  and  even  this  was  meager  enough. 
Schiller  manifested  only  a  slight  and  passing  taste  for  that 
grandeur  of  Biblical  poetry  which  Herder  knew  how  to  ap- 
preciate. The  ideals  of  beauty  which  Schiller  possessed  were 
rooted  only  in  the  Grecian  world.  No  wonder  that  he  could 
not  become  personally  attached  to  Herder,  with  whom  he 
stood  in  such  close  relations  at  Weimar. 

On  the  other  hand,  as  Schiller  departed  from  positive 
Christianity  he  adopted  the  Kantian  philosophy,  which  he 
zealously  studied,  and  whose  results  he  committed  to  verse. 
As  is  already  known,  Marquis  Posa  is  a  Kantian  in  the 
Spanish  costume  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  the  Words  of 


Schiller's  relation  to  the  kantian  philosophy.  119 

Faith  (1797)  tell  us  of  the  trinity  of  practical  reason.1  Schiller, 
in  many  of  his  letters,  informs  us  of  his  relation  to  the  Kantian 
philosophy.  "My  unalterable  determination  is,,?  he  wrote  to 
his  friend  Körner,  1792,  "not  to  leave  the  Kantian  philosophy 
until  I  have  fathomed  it,  even  if  it  should  cost  me  three 
years."2  He  wrote  to  Kant  his  assurance  of  adherence,  and 
among  other  objections  to  Herder  was  the  prominent  one, 
that  the  latter  did  not  also  take  part  as  warmly  and  posi- 
tively with  Kant.  But  Schiller's  enthusiasm  for  that  philos- 
opher only  lasted  a  few  years.  He  was  afterward  repelled 
by  the  austere,  monastic  ethics  of  Kant;  and  though  he  did 
not  return  to  positive  Christianity,  he  did  recognize  distinctly 
the  difference  between  that  and  Kantianism.  It  is  noteworthy 
that  he  expressed  this  view  in  a  letter  to  Goethe  in  1795, 
in  which  he  praised  the  Confessions  of  a  Beautiful  Soul  in 
"Wilhelm  Meister,"  and  then  expressed  himself  thus:  "I  find 
the  Christian  religion  to  be  the  entrance  to  what  is  highest 
and  noblest,  and  its  different  phenomena  in  life  are  so  re- 
pulsive and  distasteful  because  they  are  perverted  represen- 
tations of  this  highest  good.  Let  one  keep  close  to  the  real 
character  of  Christianity,  which  is  distinguished  from  all 
monotheistic  religions,  and  he  will  find  it  to  be  nothing  else 
than  the  abolition  of  law,  of  the  Kantian  Imperative,  in  whose 
stead  Christianity  would  place  a  free  inclination." 3  Here 
Schiller  was  in  the  right  path  to  recognize  the  peculiar 
character  of  Christianity.  He  also  termed  it,  in  the  same 
letter,  "the  incarnation  of  the  Holy;"  but  he  does  not  proceed 
any  further  than  that  Christianity  is  therefore  to  him  "  an 
aesthetic  religion,  which  derives  much  profit  from  the  effemi- 
nate nature,  and  is  only  found  among  women  in  any  toler- 
able form." 

While  Schiller,  in  the  most  of  his  writings,  only  occasionally 

1  Instead  of  the  triad:  God,  freedom,  and  immortality,  we  here  have 
freedom,  virtue,  and  God,  — a  God  "high  above  time  and  space,"  in 
undisturbed,  utterly  unrelated,  and  extramundane  solitude. 

2  Briefwechsel  mit  Körner,   Vol.  II.  p.  289. 

3  In  the  Briefe  an  Goethe  von  den  Jahren  1798  und  1799,  and  also  re- 
published in  Döring,  pp.  310,  332. 


120 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


resorted  to  religious  and  theological  materials,  we  have,  on 
the  other  hand,  in  his  treatise  on  the  Mission  of  Moses, 
which  he  prepared  during  his  pre-Kantian  period,  an  attempt 
at  theological  authorship.  In  this  production  there  is  a  very 
perceptible  rationalistic  tendency,  on  the  one  side  to  resolve 
the  miraculous,  as  related  in  the  Scriptures  and  impressed 
upon  the  imagination,  into  what  is  natural  and  clear  to  the 
understanding;  and,  on  the  other,  to  take  out  Providence, 
which  is  visible  in  the  control  of  human  destiny  and  in  the 
service  and  conduct  of  circumstances,  as  one  would  release 
the  germ  from  the  shell  that  contains  it.  Schiller  also  ac- 
knowledged in  the  history  of  Moses  the  great  hand  of  Provi- 
dence, "but  not  of  that  Providence  which  intermeddles  in 
the  economy  of  nature  by  the  powerful  means  of  miracles, 
but  of  that  one  who  has  prescribed  such  an  economy  to 
nature  itself  that  it  may  accomplish  extraordinary  things  in  the 
most  quiet  way."  He  assumed  that  Moses  was  initiated  into 
the  Egyptian  mysteries,  and  that  he  had  arrived  at  the 
knowledge  of  the  one  God;  but  that  he  did  not  convert  these 
views  of  the  one  God  into  an  empty,  abstract  theory,  but 
united  them  with  the  idea  of  the  Hebrew  national  god,  though 
Moses  was  not  content  to  make  this  national  god  the  most 
powerful  of  all  gods.  He  made  him  the  only  God,  and  hurled 
all  other  gods  into  their  proper  nonentity. 

The  correct  portion  of  Schiller's  idea  is,  that  in  the  Old 
Testament  the  Creator  of  heaven  and  earth  seems  at  the  same 
time  to  be  the  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  and  that 
in  this  very  connection  of  the  monotheistic  and  universal  with 
the  national  consists  the  peculiar  religious  strength  of  the 
Mosaic  and  Old  Testament  religion  in  general.  But  the 
erroneous  part  of  Schillers  portraiture  is,  that  he  represents 
as  a  work  of  shrewd  human  calculation  and  device  that  which, 
according  to  the  Christian  view,  is  the  work  of  the  divine 
training  of  man.1   This  leads  us  to  Schiller's  view  of  history 

1  How  unable  Schiller  was  to  transpose  himself  to  the  religious  think- 
ing of  antiquity,  which  Herder  understood  so  well,  is  shown  by  that 
frivolous  method  learned  from  Voltaire,  by  which,  for  example,  he  scoffs 
at  God's  appearing  in  the  burning  bush,  and  Moses'  taking  off  his  shoes. 


.SCHILLER  AS  A  HISTORIAN. 


121 


in  general,  and  to  his  call  as  a  historian.  Without  any  as- 
sistance from  himself,  he  became  Professor  of  History  at  Jena, 
at  a  time  when  his  mind  was  full  of  dramatic  plans.  History 
had  hitherto  been  to  him  only  a  mine  for  poetry,  and  par- 
ticularly for  the  drama;  and  it  still  had  to  be  the  same. 
He  expressed  himself  unequivocally  on  this  point  in  a  letter 
to  a  friend,  in  which  he  said :  "  I  shall  always  be  a  bad 
source  for  the  future  historical  inquirer  who  has  the  mis- 
fortune to  consult  me.  But  I  shall  find  readers  and  hearers, 
perhaps  at  the  expense  of  historical  truth;  and  I  may  meet 
with  those  of  strong  philosophical  taste.  History,  on  the 
whole,  is  only  a  magazine  for  my  imagination;  and  events 
must  take  place  in  my  hands  according  to  my  own  notion."1 

A  sad  confession  for  a  Professor  of  History!  But  yet  it  is 
an  important  one,  since  it  affords  us  a  view  of  the  unhistoric- 
al  rationalizing  thinking  so  wide  spread  at  the  time.  Kant 
would  interpret  all  Biblical  history  so  as  to  contribute  to 
morality.  Schiller  makes  the  same  claim,  but  for  the  advan- 
tage of  aesthetics,  and  thus  these  great  minds  would  divide 
history  and  debase  its  character,  as  philosophy  had  formerly 
been  treated.  And  this  want  of  historical  perception,  or 
rather  this  want  of  historical  humility,  which,  with  a 
degree  of  self-denial,  recognizes  history  as  a  power  that 
stands  above  the  individual,  pervades  the  whole  career 
of  Rationalism.  It  has  betrayed  itself  in  the  most  varied 
departments,  in  jurisprudence  as  in  theology,  in  politics  as 
in  art.  We  do  not  mean  that  Schiller  lacked  all  higher  com- 
prehension of  history.  He  excellently  explains  himself  on 
this  point  in  his  Academic  Inaugural  Address:  "It  is  asked, 
what  is  universal  history,  and  for  what  purpose  is  it  studied? 
Indeed,  in  contradiction  of  hasty,  desultory  knowledge,  I 
grant,  that,  in  history,  truth  must  be  sought  above  all  things; 
and  I  concede  the  duty  of  taking  care  that  history  does  not 
lose  its  value  in  my  hand." 

But  yet  it  is  here  the  generalizing  philosophical  spirit 
which  excites  him,  instead  of  that  keen  historical  sense  which 

1  Caroline  von  Beutritz,  dated  the  10th  of  December,  1778,  in  Döring. 


122 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


can  grasp  and  dignify  the  individuality  and  peculiarity  of 
every  people,  age,  and  personage.  The  same  want  of  per- 
ception of  the  individual  in  history  is  manifest  in  Schiller's 
poems,  in  which  the  characters  are  not  only  arbitrarily  ideal- 
ized, but  are  converted  into  their  antipodes,  and  persons 
are  made  the  supporters  of  ideas  really  foreign  to  them. 
Schiller's  heroes  are  generally  less  the  spokesmen  of  their 
times  than  the  organs  through  which  he  brings  his  philos- 
ophy to  man;  they  are  the  mirror  of  the  poet  and  not  of 
their  century.  Hence,  the  plastic  materials  which  Goethe 
knew  so  well  how  to  manage  are  usually  carried  to  excess  by 
declamation,1  as  with  Racine  and  many  of  the  French.  Decla- 
mation requires  striking  contrasts,  and  therefore  Schiller's 
eye  was  less  keen  for  purely  historical  events  than  for  tran- 
sitions and  accommodations.  But  here  lies  the  danger  of  ex- 
aggeration and  untruth.  He  who  always  seeks  either  bar- 
barism or  culture,  dignity  or  degradation  of  soul,  and  human- 
ity or  brutality,  but  exhibits  only  little  susceptibility  for 
the  intermediate  steps  and  transitions,  and  for  the  infinite 
Mendings  of  life,  will  also  lack  the  capacity  and  patience  to 
portray  characters  in  their  complete  truth,  and  will  vacillate 
between  the  original  picture  and  the  caricature. 

That  the  past  must  serve  the  present,  is  certainly  a  moral 
law  of  history;  but,  above  all,  the  past  must  have  its  own 
rights,  and  we  should  not  unqualifiedly  make  the  present  the 
standard  of  the  past,  and  lay  aside  as  worthless  that  which, 
on  the  first  view,  brings  no  advantage  to  the  time  and  its 
necessities.  The  Rationalism  which  would  recast  the  dis- 
coveries of  history  into  transitory  coins,  was  very  prejudicial 
to  historical  taste;  and,  among  other  reasons  why  Herder  was 
highly  repulsive  to  Schiller,  were  the  quiet,  contemplative  in- 
dustry of  Herder, — which,  like  the  bee,  led  him  to  collect 
historical  monuments,  —  and  his  reverence  for  past  ages  and 
departed  individuals.  Schiller  charged  him,  in  harsh  ex- 
pressions, with  having  respect  for  everything  dead  and 
moidering,  and  with  coldness  for  everything  living;  and  he 

1  Wallenstein's  Camp  is  a  happy  exception  to  this. 


schiller's  view  of  Christianity.  123 

termed  his  industrious  gathering  of  materials,  "a  pitiable 
picking  up  of  early  and  extinct  literature."1 

Let  us  now  return  to  his  treatise  on  the  Study  of  History. 
We  are  pleased  to  learn  that  Schiller  here  utters  his  Prot- 
estant sentiments,  and  with  a  certain  degree  of  pride  "he 
speaks  to  Protestant  Christians."  "The  Christian  religion," 
he  says,  "has  so  multiform  a  share  in  the  present  shape  of 
the  world  that  its  appearance  is  the  most  important  event 
in  the  history  of  the  world."  He  only  adds,  by  way  of  quali- 
fication, "that  neither  in  the  time  when  Christianity  came, 
nor  in  the  people  to  whom  it  was  communicated,  is  there  a 
satisfactory  ground  for  explaining  its  appearance,"  and,  as  he 
thinks,  from  sheer  lack  of  historical  sources.  Here,  again, 
philosophy,  and  a  philosophical  and  pragmatic  disposition  of 
history,  must  supply  the  want  and  study  of  the  sources. 
Philosophy  must  first  unite  the  fragments  into  a  whole,  and 
explain  the  relation  of  the  material  at  hand  to  that  whole. 

Christianity,  therefore,  is  even  to  Schiller  the  most  im- 
portant fact  in  the  world's  history.  But  if  he  alone  is  able 
to  understand  thoroughly  the  historical  position  of  Christianity 
as  a  power  to  save  the  world  who  has  a  clear  view  of  the 
nature  of  sin  and  its  historical  ramifications,  then  Schiller  has 
misconceived  Christianity.  He  considers  the  very  beginnings  of 
human  history  (in  his  treatise  on  this  subject)  from  a  point 
of  view  which  claims,  that  the  first  transgression  of  the  divine 
law,  according  to  the  Mosaic  account,  is  not  a  misfortune 
but  a  blessing.  With  the  old  Gnostics,  he  perceives  no  fall 
in  the  fall  of  man,  but  an  elevation  of  the  human  race  to 
moral  independence,  an  awakening  from  the  dream-life  of 
childhood  to  true  consciousness.  Thus  Christianity  is  not  to 
him  a  restoration,  but  a  developing  force  in  the  progress 
of  mankind  to  humanity. 

1  In  the  Briefe  an  Gothe,  republished  in  Döring,  pp.  217,  362. 


Vol.  II.— 9 


LECTURE  VII. 

SCHILLER  IN  RELATION  TO  CHRISTIANITY,  CONTINUED.  —  HIS 
POSITION  TOWARD  PROTESTANTISM.  —  INFLUENCE  OF  THE 
THEATER  ON  THE  RELIGIOUS  DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  PEOPLE, 
AND  THE  REACTION  OF  THE  THEATER  ON  THE  CHURCH. — 
-APPROVAL  OF  SCHILLER  IN  THE  SERMONS  OF  HIS  TIMES.  — 
SENTIMENTALITY.  —  RATIONALISM  IN  THE  GARB  OF  POETRY: 
TIEDGE's  URANIA,  AND  WITSCHEL's  MORNING  AND  EVENING 
OFFERING. 

While  Schiller's  name  is  hardly  mentioned  elsewhere  in 
diurch  history,  and  still  less  is  his  importance  for  national 
culture  appreciated,  we  have  determined  from  the  outset  not 
to  look  merely  at  the  strictly  ecclesiastical  phenomena,  but 
to  consider  all  that  has  been  of  effect,  in  a  wider  sense,  to- 
ward the  formation  of  ideas,  all  that  has  opened  new  points 
of  view  in  the  criticism  of  moral  relations,  that  has  called 
forth  new  tendencies  of  thought,  feeling  and  will,  and  thus 
exerted  a  profound  influence  on  the  development  of  Protest- 
antism. And  who  would  deny  that  this  was  the  case  with 
Schiller?  Therefore  I  have  concluded  to  tarry  awhile  longer 
with  the  poet  himself,  so  that,  beginning  with  him  and  his 
thinking,  we  may  consider  more  specifically  the  relation  of 
the  artistic  and  literary  efforts  of  the  times,  which  derived 
their  chief  nourishment  from  Schiller's  poetry,  to  ecclesiastical 
life,  and  to  the  morals  and  religion  of  Protestantism. 

If  we  examine  more  closely  Schiller's  poems,  we  shall  cer- 
tainly very  soon  agree  that  the  epithet  Christian  would  hardly 
designate  their  import  and  still  less  can  we  here  seek  spirit- 


MORAL  DIGNITY  AND  PURITY  OF  SCHILLER' S  POETRY.  125 

udl  songs.  It  has  been  charged  against  Schiller,  that,  with 
the  exception  of  the  youthful  poem  found  among  his  posthumous 
writings,  which  we  repeated  in  a  previous  lecture,  he  did  not 
compose  spiritual  hymns ;  but  such  a  charge  is  unjustifiable.  The 
composition  of  a  hymn  is  not  at  all  an  affair  of  the  individ- 
ual; the  impulse  must  lie  in  the  times;  but  nowhere  was 
this  impulse  less  present  than  in  Schiller's  age.  We  would 
thank  him  but  little  if,  merely  to  exempt  himself,  he  had 
patched  together  a  few  spiritual  verses,  and  then,  in  all  the 
rest,  had  shown  himself  merely  as  a  secular  poet,  which  was 
the  case  with  Uz,  Günther,  and  others.  Schiller's  poetry 
proceeded  from  his  inmost  soul,  and  was  the  full  expression 
of  his  sentiment.  All  his  poems  contained  truth,  though  often 
only  subjective  truth.  He  was  violently  opposed  to  the  appear- 
ance of  hypocrisy.  So  long  as  he  himself  breathed  the  old 
vital  air  of  Christianity,  he  could  succeed  in  such  a  song  as 
the  one  we  have  communicated;  he  could  have  done  the  same 
thing  in  a  better  way  subsequently,  as  far  as  talents  are 
concerned,  but  he  could  not  have  done  it  without  contradict- 
ing himself,  and  without  making  sport  of  the  most  sacred 
things,  a  deed  which  Schiller  would  not  commit.  Let  us  there- 
fore honor  this  feeling;  and  it,  and  not  our  own  wishes,  must 
be  our  standard  in  judging  the  poet.  Meanwhile,  we  cannot 
bear  too  carefully  in  mind  that  there  lies  a  great,  broad 
field  between  what  is  not  Christian  in  the  narrowest  sense,  and 
the  unchristian  and  antichristian ;  p  and  while  we  would  not 
be  too  liberal  in  using  the  term  Christian,  nor  would  admit 
that  morality  in  itself  is  Christianity, — in  which  lay  just 
the  error  of  Rationalism, — we  would  nevertheless  confess 
that,  where  we  meet  with  a  proper  moral  sentiment,  we 
find  safe  connecting  points  for  Christianity,  or,  at  least, 
that  a  prime  obstacle  is  removed  toward  our  arrival  at 
Christianity. 

Therefore,  what  we  first  meet  with  in  Schiller's  poems  as 
worthy  of  recognition,  even  from  a  Christian  standpoint,  is, 
if  we  except  a  few  extravagant  excrescences,  the  moral  dig- 
nity and  purity  pervading  the  most  of  his  poems.  Schiller 
has  lifted  poetry  from  the  filth  of  sensuousness  into  which  it 


120 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


threatened  to  sink  by  the  imitation  of  foreign  models,  to  the 
pure  sphere  of  the  ideal.  Should  we  not,  as  Christians, 
thank  him  for  this?  He  who  walks  with  Schiller,  rises,  per- 
haps, with  him  to  giddy  heights,  and  past  dangerous  chasms 
and  abysses,  but  he  does  not  walk  in  darkness,  nor  in  thick 
mud,  but  always  with  his  gaze  directed  toward  the  sun, 
though  that  sun  may  sometimes  be  concealed  behind  the  black 
storm-clouds  of  anxious  doubt  and  hazardous  errors.  It  is 
upon  such  a  dreadful  peak,  just  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice, 
that  we  hear  his  Resignation,  and  from  the  height  of  this  ex- 
travagant and  unpractical  view  of  life  he  looks  yearningly 
back  upon  the  old  land  of  Grecian  fable,  and,  though  in  the 
midst  of  the  Christian  world,  he  wishes  back  the  gods  of 
Greece.1  But  in  his  storm-tossed  breast  there  beats  a  noble 
heart,  which  struggles  after  God;  and  as  for  the  gods  of 
Greece,  it  is  not  true  Christianity,  but  the  soulless  and  ab- 
stract theology  which  has  banished  the  living  God  from  the 
world,  and  has  changed  everything  into  dead  natural  forces, 
against  which  he  directs  his  poem.  Even  when  Schiller,  in 
his  Words  of  Fancy,  seems  to  despair  of  all  truth,  when  he 
declares  that  the  truth  never  appears  to  the  "earthly  under- 
standing," and  when  he  calls  it  only  an  "  advising  and  think- 
ing" to  which  we  bring  it,  he  has  in  mind  more  that  dead 
wisdom  of  formulas  which  imagines  that  it  can  imprison  the 
spirit  in  a  "sounding  word,"  whether  we  call  it  orthodoxy  or 
a  philosophical  system;  but  he  nevertheless  desires  to  pre- 
serve heavenly  faith.  "  What  no  ear  has  heard,  and  what  no 
eyes  have  seen, — the  beautiful  and  the  true, — is  not  beyond 
thee,  where  the  fool  seeks  it,  but  within  thee;  and  thou  bring- 
est it  forth  eternally."  And  thus  he  speaks  in  his  poem  on 
the  Commencement  of  the  New  Century: 

1  His  Briefwechsel  mit  Körner  gives  us  much  information  on  this 
point;  comp.  Vol.  I.  p.  397:  "The  God  whom  I  would  obscure  in  the 
Gods  of  Greece  is  not  the  God  of  the  philosophers  (?),  nor  the  benefi- 
cent chimera  of  the  great  crowd  (!),  but  the  abortion  produced  by 
a  mixture  of  weak  and  warped  notions/'  Therefore,  after  all,  the  God 
of  the  philosophers;  at  least,  not  the  God  of  the  Bible.  Comp.  Vol.11, 
pp.  106,  109. 


Schiller's  poetry  as  related  to  Christianity.  127 

"To  the  still  holy  depths  of  the  heart, 
Must  thou  flee  from  life's  busy  throng; 
Only  in  dreams  has  Freedom  her  realm, 
And  Beauty  blooms  only  in  song." 

This  withdrawal  of  Schiller  into  the  inward  world  was  only 
in  common  with  many  noble  minds,  who,  roughly  touched  by 
the  external  world  and  its  stiff  morality,  fled  to  the  quiet  home 
of  their  own  spirit.  We  honor  the  beauty  and  grandeur  of 
this  feeling,  but  we  would  not  ignore  its  danger.  Retiring 
within  one's  self  can  easily  awaken  pride  and  false  compla- 
cency, which  are  never  truly  contented,  and  seek  to  indemnify 
themselves  by  the  contempt  of  others.  The  morbid  element  in 
Schiller's  tendency,  which  communicated  itself  to  the  greater 
portion  of  his  contemporaries,  and  whose  root  lay  in  the 
Kantian  philosophy,  is  that  excessive  ideality  which  soars 
above  us,  as  though  belonging  to  the  future,  and  unattainable 
in  its  great  height,  and  to  which  we  can  only  rise  by  the 
highest  efforts  of  the  imagination,  while  Christianity  adheres 
closely  to  the  transpired  and  historical  realization  of  the 
ideal  in  relation  to  religion  and  morality.  From  this  reali- 
zation the  further  transformation  of  humanity  to  the  divine 
shall  be  made  possible,  though  not  by  a  highly  poetical  or 
speculative  flight  of  thought,  but  through  the  modest  path 
of  humble  waiting  and  struggling.  Schiller  thus  appeals  to 
his  friends: 

"In  life  all  things  are  repeated, 
But  eternally  young  is  the  mind; 
What  is  not,  and  never  can  be, 
Is  the  only  young  thing  you  can  find." 

But  Christianity  answers:  "There  certainly  has  been  a 
place  and  a  time  when  the  saving  grace  of  God  appeared  to 
all  men;  1  We  beheld  his  glory,  the  glory  as  of  the  only  Be- 
gotten of  the  Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth.'"  This  never 
grows  old,  and  ever  since  the  days  of  its  origin,  eternal  youth 
has  proceeded  from  the  spirit  of  the  new  birth  to  the  world. 
Schiller,  at  other  times,  when  he  descended  from  the  ideal 
height  to  the  vale  where  men  lived,  knew  how  to  appreciate 


128 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


the  power  of  Christianity  as  a  present  reality,  over  the 
human  soul: 

"Religion  of  the  Cross,  thou  blend'st,  as  in  a  single  flower, 
The  twofold  branches  of  the  palm  —  humility  and  power." 

It  is  thus  that  he  exclaims  in  his  Knights  of  St.  John.  And 
he  does  not  speak  from  the  depths  of  a  Christian  con- 
sciousness, in  rigid  antithesis  to  an  intelligence  which  makes 
everything  clear,  as  to  a  proud  idealism  of  the  reason,  when 
he  says  in  the  Words  of  Faith: 

"The  child-like  soul  employs  in  simple  guise, 
"What  is  but  baldest  folly  to  the  wise." 

A  beautiful  apology  for  Christianity  lies  in  these  very  words. 
Our  Lord  accepts  them  himself  when  he  says:  "If  any  man 
will  do  his  will,  he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine,  whether  it 
be  of  God,  or  whether  I  speak  of  myself;"  and:  "Blessed 
are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God;"  and:  "I  thank 
thee,  0,  Father,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  because  thou 
hast  hid  these  things  from  the  wise  and  prudent,  and  hast 
revealed  them  unto  babes."  That  the  cause  of  human  un- 
happiness  does  not  rest  with  God,  as  the  poem  on  Resigna- 
tion seems  to  hold,  but  with  man  himself,  and  in  his  own 
sinfulness,  is  pronounced  by  Schiller  in  his  Bride  of  Messina, 
in  the  words: 

"The  world  is  perfect  everywhere, 
Where  man  takes  not  his  grief." 

Also  in  the  earnest,  tragical  conclusion: 

"  One  truth  revealed 
Speaks  in  my  breast;  —  no  good  supreme  is  life; 
But,  of  all  earthly  ills,  the  chief  is  — guilt!" 

Schiller  opens  before  our  eyes  the  wounds  and  the  gap  made 
by  guilt,  and  allows  us  to  look  down  into  the  depths  of  sin, 
but,  at  the  same  time,  without  leading  us  to  the  height  from 
which  the  obligation  is  nullified,  from  which  the  balm  flows 
into  the  wounds. 

Yet,  though  Schiller  did  not  penetrate  the  very  essence  of 
Christianity,  which  he  often  alludes  to  longingly,  its  hopes 


Schiller's  view  of  the  future  life.  129. 

were  yet  not  foreign  to  him.  "Even  at  the  grave  he  plants 
hope."  It  seems  as  if  we  were  listening  to  Klopstock  when 
we  read,  in  the  Song  of  the  Bells: 

"Ah,  seeds,  how  dearer  far  than  they 

We  bury  in  the  dismal  tomb, 
Where  hope  and  sorrow  bend  to  pray, 
That  suns  beyond  the  realm  of  day, 

May  warm  them  into  bloom!" 

"These  words,"  says  Gustavus  Schwab,  "by  which  the  poet 
has  conquered  so  many  thousands  of  hearts,  are  the  utter- 
ance of  the  sorrowing  and  hoping  son  and  brother.  Are  they 
irreconcilable  with  the  truth?  Are  they  a  lie  and  deception 
of  fancy?  Then  is  the  Christianity  of  the  Bible  an  invention 
for  fools,  as  has  been  said  plainly  enough,  both  formerly  and 
latterly."1 

Of  course,  Schiller  had  his  seasons  when  his  view  of  the 
future  was  dark,  and  when  he  regarded  the  hope  of  personal 
duration  as  one  of  the  supports  needed  by  only  the  moral 
weakling;  but  yet  it  seems  that  when  the  poet  inflicted 
wounds  upon  his  own  heart,  he  willingly  leaned  upon  the 
same  support  which  even  Rationalism  has  boldly  maintained 
as  an  essential  prop  of  all  religion,  and  which  its  great 
master,  Kant,  reckoned  among  the  requirements  of  practical 
reason.  As  already  remarked,  Schiller,  in  his  later  years, 
deviated  steadily  from  the  Kantian  philosophy,  and  plunged 
into  poetry  as  his  proper  sphere  of  life.  And  though  he  did 
not  seem  by  it  to  gain  anything  for  Christianity,  yet  he  ac- 
quired a  more  candid  view  of  the  nature  of  religious  revela- 
tion, or  at  least  an  immediate  sphere  lying  beyond  what  is 
intelligible  to  the  reason,  —  a  sphere  of  believing  and  longing 

1  We  can  still  less  unite  with  Schwab,  when,  in  the  following  pas- 
sage from  Don  Carlos,  cited  by  him  on  p.  129,  he  regards  Christ  as 
in  the  poet's  mind: 

"But  one,  but  one 
So  undeservedly  hath  died, 
Since  mothers  have  been  bringing  forth." 

Marquis  Posa  refers,  in  these  words,  to  his  murdered  friend,  which  is 
quite  in  harmony  with  Schiller's  emotion. 


130 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


perception,  in  which  poetry  and  religion  meet.  In  his  poem, 
The  Artists,  written  in  1789,  we  read: 

"What  first  the  reason  of  the  ancient  time 
Dimly  discovered,  many  a  century  flown, 
Lay  in  the  symbol  types  of  the  sublime 
And  beautiful — intuitively  known." 

How  so,  if  this  previous  revelation  had  offered  a  connect- 
ing point  in  the  symbol,  in  an  artistic  sense,  to  the  Mends 
of  Christianity  to  come  to  an  agreement  with  the  poet  himself 
on  the  nature  of  the  religious  revelation?  But  no  opportunity 
was  offered  for  this.  Schiller  died  before  he  was  inwardly 
finished,  before  his  convictions  reached  a  proper  development. 
Would  that  he  could  have  united  with  Herder!  There  is  no 
knowing  what  those  two  minds  could  have  produced  upon  others 
through  the  force  of  their  authority,  if  they  had  both  labored, 
with  all  their  great  power  of  expression,  for  a  living  and  spiritual 
view  of  Christianity!1  We  learn  from  a  person  intimate  with 
the  poet,  that,  toward  the  end  of  his  life,  the  effect  of  Christ's 
doctrine  on  the  history  of  the  world,  and  His  pure  and  holy 
person,  filled  him  constantly  with  the  more  inward  and  pro- 
found veneration.  And  it  was  chiefly  on  the  authority  of 
this  declaration  that  the  orator,  on  the  occasion  of  the  un- 
veiling of  Schiller's  statue,  expressed  the  hope,  "that  the 
heart  of  the  great  poet  may  not  have  been  so  far  from  Him 
whose  name  he  mentioned  but  seldom, — a  name  which  is 
above  every  name."  But  granted  that  Schiller  did  not  per- 
sonally come  to  any  nearer  connection  with  Christianity  than 
that  which  his  works  present,  we  cannot  overlook  the  fact 
that,  after  all,  the  individual  can  hardly  be  separated  from 
the  mass  in  which  he  lives,  and  that  every  one,  however  high 
his  position,  is  supported  by  his  times.  This  applies  as  well 
to  the  error  as  to  the  truth  by  which  an  age  is  governed. 
If  we  look  at  the  idea  of  Christianity  in  its  widest  meaning, 
in  opposition  to  paganism  and  antiquity,  we  shall  find  that 
Schiller's  poetry  is  rooted  in  Christian  history,  in  the  Chris- 

1  That  Schiller  found  his  complement  in  Herder,  see  the  Briefwechsel 
mit  Körner j  Vol.  I.  p.  231. 


SCHILLERS  RELATION  TO  PROTESTANTISM.  131 


tian  and  modern  view  of  the  world,  in  spite  of  all  bis  Gods 
of  Greece,  and  of  all  his  longings  after  the  old  poetical  land 
of  fable.  As  has  been  shown  by  others,  an  essentially  Chris- 
tian view  of  religion  underlies  his  tragedies,  particularly  Mary 
Stuart,  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  and  Wallenstein,  as  well  as 
many  of  his  ballads  and  romances ;  and  "  even  where  the 
poet  derives  his  material  from  mythology,  he  transforms  it 
by  giving  it  a  heart.  In  short,  he  occupies  an  infinitely 
higher  standard  than  antiquity." 1  And  he  owes  this  to  Chris- 
tianity itself. 

Thus  much  on  the  question  whether  Schiller  may  be  called 
a  Christian  poet.  We  should  make  a  special  statement  of 
his  relation  to  Protestantism  in  particular.  If  Protestantism 
consists  only  in  protesting  against  false  piety,  hypocrisy  and 
hierarchism,  in  fighting  for  freedom  of  mind  and  thought,  and 
for  political  and  religious  independence,  who  would  hesitate 
to  place  Schiller  in  the  front  rank  of  combatants?  And  in 
this  sense  we,  too,  call  him  a  Protestant,  and  would  also 
designate  his  Protestantism  a  noble  one,  and  worthy  of  recog- 
nition as  a  Protestantism  which,  with  all  its  defects,  is 
easily  distinguishable  from  mere  tumultuous  and  raging  revo- 
lutionism. Schiller's  sou}  was  thoroughly  animated  by  a  burn- 
ing indignation  against  everything  degrading  to  man  and  his 
reason,  and  deriding  the  dignity  of  the  human  race.  He  says, 
in  reference  to  Don  Carlos :  u  I  will  not  only  make  it  my  duty 
to  avenge  prostituted  humanity,  but  to  expose  its  blemishes  in 
their  hideous  light."  In  these  words  he  not  only  expressed 
the  real  task  of  that  poem,  but  of  his  life.  We  have  already 
observed,  that  this  Protestantism  is  not  the  real  form  which 
we  seek,  and  which  we  are  studying  in  the  present  history; 
but  no  one  can  deny  that  Schiller's  zeal  was  also  shared  by 
the  punitive  spirit  of  Luther.2 

1  Schwab,  p.  150. 

2  Yet  Schiller  by  no  means  sought  a  reformation  by  mere  destruction. 
"Destruction,"  he  writes,  "is  an  ignoble  business  for  great  strength, 
so  long  as  there  is  something  to  be  created."  He  recommends  "wise 
moderation  toward  opinions,  feelings,  and  institutions  which  contain  a 
germ  of  human  worth  that  is  really  deserving  of  development."  See 
the  Briefwechsel  mit  Körner,  Vol.  II.  p.  301. 


s 


132  HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 

It  seems  remarkable  to  us  that  Schiller,  as  a  historian, 
should  choose  just  those  sections  of  modern  history  where 
the  great  religious  conflict  called  forth  by  the  Reformation 
was  waged, — the  Revolt  of  the  Netherlands,  the  Thirty 
Years'  War,  and  the  French  Religious  Wars.  True,  he  does 
not  give  prominence  to  the  deeper  religious  motives, — as, 
for  example,  Gustavus  Adolphus  is  only  appreciated  from  his 
political  standpoint, — but  yet  no  one  will  deny  that  the  whole 
is  pervaded  by  a  decidedly  Protestant  sentiment,  in  which 
we  perceive  bone  of  our  bone  and  flesh  of  our  flesh.  But 
has  not  Schiller,  as  a  poet,  coquetted  with  Catholicism  also? 
Has  he  not  presented  to  us  in  Mary  Stuart  a  martyr,  and 
done  violent  injustice,  to  Elizabeth?  In  his  Going  for  the 
Iron  Hammer,  has  he  not  pictured  the  mass  with  approval; 
and,  in  his  Rudolph  of  Hapsburg,  even  praised  the  worship 
of  the  host,  and  the  priests  bearing  it?  I  do  not  think 
that  any  man  will  seriously  charge  Schiller  with  a  Catholic 
tendency  because  of  these  two  last  poems,  a  tendency  called 
forth  far  more  by  Romanticism  than  by  him.  At  most, 
we  can  only  discover  in  them  that  indifference  by  which 
the  poetic  impression  passes  over  everything  else,  and 
which  therefore  subsidizes  every  religious  form.  But  even 
this  admission  is  not  necessary.  True  Protestantism  knows 
the  historical  connection  of  the  forms  of  Catholic  worship, 
and  can  appreciate  them  in  their  proper  place,  and  it  is  only 
narrow  bigotry  that  would  confine  the  poet  in  his  creations  to 
the  portrayal  of  what  is  merely  confessional.  As  for  his  Mary 
and  Elizabeth,  the  only  charge  we  can  justly  make  against 
him  is  his  abuse  of  poetic  freedom,  not  only  in  idealizing 
historical  persons,  but  in  actually  giving  them  a  character 
opposed  to  their  real  one. 

But  enough  on  Schiller's  person.  If  we  now  look  at  his 
influence  on  his  times,  we  can  only  say  that  it  was  enor- 
mously great,  and  that  it  still  continues.  In  proof  of  this, 
to  be  acquainted  with  Schiller,  to  have  read  him,  and  to 
quote  passages  from  him,  were  regarded  a  number  of  decades 
ago,  and  even  now,  in  many  circles,  as  the  proof  of  one's  be- 
longing to  the  cultivated  world.  True,  the  educated  people 


Schiller's  beneficial  influence  on  his  times.  133 

of  to-day  require  something  more  than  this;  indeed,  he  who 
would  pass  in  the  highest  circles  as  cultivated,  must  some- 
what shrug  his  shoulders  over  Schiller  in  order  to  exalt 
Goethe,  although,  to  our  very  youngest  generation,  Goethe 
has  in  turn  become  quite  an  old  man,  whom  some  very  young 
gentlemen  would  quite  disregard.  Yet  Schiller  has  his  wor- 
shippers and  admirers  in  all  conditions  and  classes;  and 
though  it  may  earlier  have  been  the  sign  of  culture  to  ad- 
mire him  one-sidedly  and  exclusively,  yet  the  really  educated 
man,  just  because  he  is  of  true  and  liberal  culture,  delights 
in  the  abundance  of  Schiller's  genius,  and  a  youth  who  is 
not  puffed  up  will  always  be  fascinated  by  him. 

Just  this  is  a  proof  of  the  power  of  Schiller's  muse,  and 
if  we  would  see  in  the  influence  which  he  has  had,  and  still 
has,  only  perversion  and  mischief,  we  should  thoroughly  mis- 
take the  development  of  German  national  education  as  well 
as  of  the  different  vital  elements  of  Protestantism.  Only  a 
narrow  and  bigoted  Christianity  would  decide  absolutely 
against  the  influences  of  art  and  culture;  but  such  a  form 
of  Christianity  will  never  be  able  to  rise  above  narrow  secta- 
rian limits,  and  be  developed  into  a  universal  religion.  Or, 
who  would  deny  that  the  sense  of  the  sublime  and  beautiful, 
as  fostered  particularly  by  Schiller,  is  not  only  compatible 
with  Christianity,  but  that  it  is  ennobled  and  purified  by  it, 
and  by  this  very  means  can  be  extended  far  beyond  Schiller 
himself?  As  the  study  of  the  ancient  Greeks  and  Romans 
exerts  a  cultivating  and  promoting  influence,  even  in  a  Chris- 
tian respect  (according  to  the  testimony  of  all  sensible  people), 
so  can  and  must  our  German  classical  writers,  whose  gen- 
eral view  is  taken  from  a  Christian  standpoint,  serve,  in  the 
hands  of  Christian  teachers,  as  means  for  improving  the  taste 
and  ennobling  the  language.  A  Christian  zeal  that  would  banish 
them  from  our  schools,  or  from  our  homes  and  libraries, 
would  certainly  not  be  advisable;  it  would  only  cause  our 
youth  to  hunger  for  forbidden  fruit,  and  withhold  from  them  an 
essential  department  of  their  education,  thus  making  their 
education  defective.  But  the  overvaluing  of  Schiller's  poetry, 
the  surfeit  of  his  materials,  and  the  supremacy  accorded  for 


134  HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 

some  time  to  his  writing  and  thinking,  is  certainly  just  as 
wrong.  We  are  reminded  of  Knapp's  words: 

"I  like  them  not, 
Those  who,  far  from  the  golden  mean, 
Are  borne  by  the  party  current. 
One  thou  condemnest  to  judgment, 
Another  thou  makest  a  saint. 

Some  fancy  thee  far  from  the  day; 
Others,  that  thou  art  in  the  light; 
Some  take  the  child  out  of  the  bath, 
"While  others  would  drown  it  outright. 
Prejudiced  souls  are  ever  most  ready 
The  worship  and  deeds  of  genius  to  raise; 
They  are  constantly  wild  and  opposing, 
Unless,  as  all  glorious,  their  deeds  you  praise." 

It  is  now  generally  acknowledged,  as  is  shown  by  the  con- 
troversy on  the  preeminence  of  Schiller  or  Goethe,  that  we 
cannot  praise  everything  in  Schiller,  and  that  even  on  the 
score  of  art  and  taste,  there  is  much  in  his  poems  that  we 
must  censure.  But  the  overestimation  is  much  more  one-sided 
in  a  moral  respect,  and,  where  fanatically  adhered  to,  can 
assume  a  position  of  antagonism  to  Christianity.  But  as 
every  tendency  is  asserted  for  a  time  with  a  partisan  spirit, 
until  it  is  conquered  by  another,  or  directed  into  its  proper 
limits,  so  do  we  find  it  the  case  in  the  present  instance. 
The  more  Schiller's  thinking  comprised  elements  contradict- 
ory to  the  previous  Christian  and  ecclesiastical  thinking,  so 
much  the  more  voraciously  did  the  young,  thirsting  for  some- 
thing new  and  fresh,  seize  his  writings.  The  Words  of  Faith 
were  now  much  more  pleasing  to  many  a  young  man  than 
the  Apostolic  Creed,  carelessly  learned  in  the  catechism.  The 
enchantment  of  beautiful  language  dragged  many  a  mind  into 
a  sort  of  sentimental  fanaticism,  and  the  ideal  striving  for 
the  divine  satisfied  many  who  did  not  care  if  they  stumbled, 
"provided  Schiller  himself  stumbled  everywhere."  Instead  of 
seeking  the  forgiveness  of  sins  by  the  hard  and  wrestling 
path  of  Christian  penitence,  and  by  working  out  salvation  with 


sciiiller's  influence  on  the  clergy. 


135 


fear  and  trembling,  it  was  easier  to  unite  in  the  chorus  of 
joyful  companions: 

"Sinners  all  shall  be  forgiven, 
And  hell  shall  be  no  more." 

But  we  must  not  pass  too  severe  a  sentence  on  this  phenom- 
enon. We  cannot  always  see  in  it  sheer  recklessness  or 
hardness,  and,  indeed,  not  always  a  formal  denial  of  Chris- 
tianity. It  is  a  fact,  that  the  forms  in  which  Christianity 
then  expressed  itself  had  become  too  contracted  for  the 
tempestuous  spirit  of  the  times.  Secular  education  had 
overtaken  and  outstripped  spiritual.  There  were  still  learned 
and  even  believing  theologians;  but  there  were  few,  endowed 
with  Herder's  spirit,  who  knew  how,  or  even  strove,  to  satisfy 
the  demands  of  the  mind  as  well  as  of  the  conscience,  those 
of  the  church  as  well  as  of  education.  And  those  who  made 
the  attempt  occupied  an  oblique  position,  and  incurred  the 
danger  of  becoming  miserably  incomplete.  True,  Herder  him- 
self, as  we  have  already  seen,  did  not  seem  at  all  times  and 
in  an  equal  degree  capable  of  the  high  task  of  representing 
Christianity  and  humanity  in  their  unity.  How  can  we  be 
surprised,  therefore,  if  many  preachers  to  whom  the  Kantian 
tone  was  disgusting,  and  who  felt  that  there  was  a  necessity 
of  having  something  besides  the  Categorical  Imperative  by 
which  to  elevate  and  excite  the  mind,  should  now,  with 
Schiller,  attempt  this,  by  bringing  into  the  pulpit,  before  the 
people,  the  favorite  poet  who  was  loudly  applauded  in  the 
theater,  and  by  reciting  passages  from  him,  or  preaching  in 
high-flown  Schillerian  phrases.1  Thus  people  sought  to  supply 
by  sentimentality  that  heartiness  of  religious  feeling  of  which 
Rationalism  was  devoid;  and,  consequently,  they  made  use  of 
empty  declamation.  Oddly  enough,  the  dryness  of  a  shallow 
system  of  morality  often  alternated,  in  one  and  the  same  ser- 
mon, with  the  insipidity  of  flowery  bombast. 

But  what  now  appears  in  the  main  as  a  remarkable  crisis 
in  the  later  history  of  morals,  is  the  nearness  in  which  the 

1  Many  sermons  commenced  with  such  words  as  these:  "There  are 
moments  in  human  life." 


136 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


theater  and  the  church  were  thrown  together,  and  the  wonder- 
ful interchange  of  their  legitimate  work  which  here  took 
place,  so  that  paople  might  well  believe  that  now  they  heard 
the  preacher  on  the  stage,  and  now  the  comedian  in  the 
pulpit.  We  must  delay  somewhat  longer  with  this  phenom- 
enon, and  go  back  to  earlier  historical  precedents. 

The  early  Christian  church,  which  had  striven  to  eradicate 
every  recollection  of  the  old  idolatry,  naturally  forbade  its 
members  to  visit  heathen  spectacles,  partly  because  the  latter 
were  connected  with  the  pagan  religion,  and  partly  because 
a  barbarousness  of  feeling  was  produced  in  the  mind  by  a 
certain  class  of  spectacles  (the  gladiatorial  fights),  for  Chris- 
tianity could  not  do  otherwise  than  hold  them  in  abhorrence. 
After  heathendom  was  conquered,  and  the  world  in  the 
Middle  Ages  had  become  the  supporter  of  an  ecclesiasticism 
and  Christianity  that  were  in  many  respects  merely  outward, 
there  arose  a  change  in  this  respect.  People  loved  to  repre- 
sent dramatically  even  spiritual  subjects,  Biblical  narratives, 
and  ecclesiastical  mysteries.  The  clergy  and  their  students  even 
exhibited  such  dramas  in  the  cloisters,  and  respectable  civilians 
in  the  cities  looked  upon  such  exercises  as  an  innocent  pastime. 
Together  with  more  serious  pieces,  there  were  also  the  rude 
jest  and  coarse  farce,  which  only  seldom  ascended  to  a  truly 
national  and  artistic  character.  The  earnest  moral  spirit  of 
the  Reformation  gradually  assumed  toward  the  drama  the 
same  position  that  original  Christianity  had  occupied  toward 
heathendom.  In  the  processions  and  masks  which  had  often 
found  their  way  unbecomingly  into  the  sanctuary  of  the  church, 
men  saw  the  remains  of  a  papal  heathendom,  that  were  very 
properly  abhorred,  though  here  and  there  the  carnival-plays, 
as  those  of  Manuel  in  Berne,  were  made  use  of  to  spread 
the  ideas  of  the  Reformation  among  the  people. 

But  it  was  not  a  mere  accident  that,  soon  after  the  period 
of  the  Reformation  in  the  church,  Shakespeare,  born  in  1564, 
appeared  as  the  creator  of  the  new  theater,  and,  in  his 
masterly  works,  collected  a  world  of  profound  observations, 
drawn  from  the  inmost  nature  of  man.  But  neither  the  six- 
teenth nor  the  seventeenth  century  appreciated  Shakespeare's 


ATTEMPT  TO  GIVE  MORAL  POWER  TO  THE  DRAMA.  137 

genius,  and  the  English  nation  was  not  destined  to  introduce 
its  great  countryman  into  universal  history;  but  it  was  re- 
served for  the  great  Germans  of  the  eighteenth  and  nine- 
teenth centuries  to  direct  attention  to  the  internal  substance 
of  Shakespeare's  plays,  and  to  the  exhaustless  wealth  of  ideas 
that  here  take  shape  and  display  their  power.  All  the 
great  poets  and  literary  men  of  that  period,  Lessing,  Herder, 
Schiller,  Goethe,  and  the  Schlegels,  however  differently  they 
thought  on  other  subjects,  here  united  in  the  admiration,  and 
partially  in  the  imitation,  of  their  great  British  prototype. 
And  thus  it  might  be  expected,  that,  with  such  studies,  there 
would  necessarily  arise  in  the  Christian  Protestant  world 
quite  a  different  view  of  the  importance  of  the  drama  and 
the  task  of  dramatic  art  from  that  which  prevailed  when 
people  were  only  accustomed  to  regard  the  theater  as  a 
source  of  worldly  dissipation.1 

The  more  seriously  dramatic  art  was  regarded  at  this  time, 
the  more  the  effort  was  made  to  secure  to  the  theater  an 
honorable  position,  and  to  elevate  it  to  a  moral  power.  The 
great  work  of  laying  hold  upon  man's  inmost  nature,  of  lead- 
ing him  to  a  knowledge  of  his  higher  dignity,  of  opening  to 
him  a  loftier  and  ideal  world,  far  above  the  employments  and 
pressure  of  the  every-day  life,  was  now  regarded  as  the  true 
mission  of  the  theater;  and  thus  there  sprang  up  between 
this  institution  and  the  church,  which  had  fully  believed,  from 

1  It  is  due  to  the  troublous  times  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  and  to 
the  tedious  calamitous  circumstances  succeeding  them,  that  the  theater 
of  Germany  did  not  earlier  rise  to  the  height  to  which  we  have  seen 
it.  Afterward,  the  French  taste  conquered  all  healthy  development  of 
nationality.  Pietism,  which  pronounced  a  severe  sentence  on  all  secular 
pleasures,  also  felt  called  upon  to  condemn  the  theater,  which  it  could 
only  look  at  from  this  standpoint.  Yet  it  is  remarkable,  that  just  here 
Spener  was  more  mild  in  his  judgment.  Comp.  Vorlesungen,  Pt.  IV.  p. 
217  (2nd  Ed.).  On  the  whole,  the  Lutheran  church  has  been  less  severe 
here  than  the  Reformed,  as  in  other  matters.  As  for  the  rest,  we  refer 
to  the  writings  of  Wessenberg,  Ueber  den  sittlichen  Einfluss  der  Schau- 
bühne (Zürich,  1825),  Stäudlin,  Geschichte  der  Vorstellungen  von  der  Sitt- 
lichkeit des  Schauspiels  (Göttingen,  1823),  and  Alt,  Theater  und  Kirche, 
in  ihrem  gegenseitigen  Verhältniss  historisch  dargestellt  (Berlin,  1846). 


133 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


its  origin,  that  this  was  its  own  mission,  quite  a  peculiar  kind 
of  rivalry,  the  possibility  of  which  had  never  been  thought 
of  during  the  earlier  period  of  orthodoxy.  And  even  Pastor 
Goetze  had  been  compelled  to  learn  that  the  same  man  who 
reformed  the  German  theater  also  applied  his  critical  knife 
to  the  sore  spots  of  Protestant  theology,  and  made  his  in- 
cisions in  them  as  in  the  healthy  places.1  And  thus  it  might 
even  be  surprising  that  Schiller  should  appear  after  Lessing, 
and  that  the  former  would  even  elevate  the  stage  to  a  moral 
and  religious  institution,  which  the  modern  state  would  need 
above  all  for  its  invigoration  and  strength.  In  his  treatise: 
The  Stage  regarded  as  a  Moral  Institution,  delivered  in  the 
year  1784  before  the  Electoral  German  Society  at  Mannheim,  he 
declares,  in  all  seriousness,  that  the  mission  of  the  drama  is 
religious,  and  that  religion  will  not  be  secure  against  over- 
throw until  it  enters  into  union  with  the  stage.  The  stage 
is  to  him  a  symbolized  final  judgment,  in  which  virtue  finds 
its  reward  and  vice  its  punishment;  more  than  any  other 
institution  of  the  state,  it  is  to  him  a  living  mirror  of  morals, 
a  school  of  practical  wisdom,  an  infallible  key  to  the  secret 
passages  of  the  human  soul.  Only  in  the  theater  can  the 
great  men  of  the  world  hear  the  truth,  and  see  man  in  his 
true  character.  "The  stage,"  says  Schiller,  "is  the  common 
passage  down  which  the  light  of  wisdom  streams  from  think- 
ing and  better  people,  and  from  which  it  spreads  in  mild 
beams  throughout  the  state.  It  is  the  school  of  toleration, 
and  from  it  we  can  anticipate  an  advantageous  effect  upon 
education."  What  had  previously  been  expected  of  the  church, 
that  it  would  elevate  man  by  its  consolations  above  the  afflic- 
tions of  life,  was  expected  by  Schiller  of  the  theater.  "  The 
stage  receives  us  when  grief  gnaws  at  the  heart,  ill-humor 
poisons  our  lonely  hours,  the  world  and  business  disgust  us, 
and  a  thousand  burdens  oppress  the  soul.  In  this  artistic 
world  we  dream  away  the  real  one;  we  are  restored  to  our- 

1  See  Vol.  I.  p.  282  ff.  On  Goetze's  opinion  on  the  theater,  see  Ständ- 
lin,  Geschichte  der  Vorstellunyen  von  der  Sittlichkeit  des  Schausjjiels,  p.  187  ff. 
The  opinion  here  given  of  the  Theological  Faculty  oi  Güttingen  is  also 
interesting. 


THE  STAGE  AS  A  SCHOOL  OF  MORALS. 


130 


selves;  our  sensibility  is  awakened,  and  healthy  emotions  arouse 
our  slumbering  nature,  and  drive  the  blood  into  fresh  currents. 
The  unhappy  man  here  weeps  away  his  own  grief  as  he  looks 
at  that  of  another,"  etc. 

It  is  remarkable  that  in  his  eloquent  panegyric  on  the  stage, 
only  mention  is  made  of  the  removal  of  trouble,  and,  as  for  the 
boasted  moral  effects  of  the  theater,  Schiller  is  honest  enough 
to  confess  that  Moliere's  Miser  does  not  improve  any  usurer, 
and  that  the  most  highly  colored  pictures  of  crime  have  never 
restrained  man  from  crime  itself.  Indeed,  he  has  far  more 
strongly  expressed  himself  on  this  point  in  a  previous  essay 
on  the  German  theater,  in  1782,  where  he  seems  candidly  to 
despair  of  good  being  accomplished  by  once  witnessing  a  theatric- 
al play.  Ho  w  over,  the  view  that  the  stage  is  a  school  of 
morals,  and,  perhaps,  of  still  more  salutary  influence  than 
the  church,  was  expressed  with  increasing  clearness,  and  in 
this  light  the  theater  was  protected  against  the  objections  of 
the  clergy.  Different  ways  were  taken,  according  to  circum- 
s'ances,  for  reaching  this  end.  People  either  went  beyonü 
themselves  in  horrible  and  repulsive  representations  of  crime, 
so  that  once  the  well-known  Schroder  offered  a  prize  for  the 
best  tragedy  on  fratricide,1  or  the  distinct  character  of  the 
drama  was  given  up,  and,  iustead  of  representing  life  in  the 
light  of  art,  there  were  preaching,  philosophy  and  moralizing 
on  the  stage  itself.  Thus  arose  those  moralizing  plays  in 
which  Inland,  in  particular,  bore  a  conspicuous  part,  but  of 
which  Schiller,  in  his  Shakespeare's  Shade,  made  sport: 

"When  vice  is  paid  off  with  shame,  virtue  earns  her  reward." 

The  dangerous  proximity  of  the  theater  and  the  church, 
and  the  remarkable  change  of  parts  that  here  took  place, 
were  evidently  rooted  in  a  confusion  of  ideas,  a  disease  from 
which  our  times  are  also  suffering;  for  men  require  of  art 
that  it  shall  teach  and  improve,  while  its  mission  and  strength 
lie  in  representation.  Now,  as  the  nature  of  religion  was 
wrongly  made  to  consist  in  morality,  this  error  passed  over 
into  the  requirements  of  art.    The  theater  was  elevated  into 

•r-r      TT  1  See  Gervxuus,  Vol.  IV.  p.  569. 

\OL.  II.— 10  * 


140 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


a  school  of  morals  and  the  church  reduced  to  a  school  of 
morals,  while  an  aesthetical  tinsel  was  hung  around  the  neck 
of  both.  The  pastor  in  the  pulpit  frequently  mimicked  the 
comedian,  while  the  actor,  in  his  place,  imitated  the  pastor. 
The  broad  field  of  civil  morals  was  shared  by  each,  but  not 
to  the  real  advantage  of  either  art  or  religion,  or,  eventually, 
of  morality  itself,  for  this  last  requires  above  all  the  serious- 
ness of  truth  and  the  removal  of  all  show. 

But  truth  was  wanting  here  as  there.  The  play  was  sun- 
dered as  far  from  the  ideal  of  the  grand  and  of  the  truly 
natural,  as  we  see  it  in  Shakespeare,  as  the  sermon,  in  its 
turn,  stood  aloof  from  the  only  safe  ground  given  to  it  in 
God's  Word.  With  all  the  talk  about  naturalness,  true  nature 
was  wanting;  with  all  the  speaking  of  morality,  and  all 
preaching  on  it  in  the  pulpits  and  theaters,  true  morals,  the 
profound  ethics  of  Christianity,  the  real  holiness  of  man, 
which  is  not  satisfied  with  mere  superficial  emotions,  but  in- 
sists upon  the  transformation  of  the  heart,  were  thrown  in 
the  shade.  Aesthetic  virtues  took  the  place  of  Christian;  an 
emotional  heart  was  regarded  as  of  more  worth  than  a  sub- 
missive and  humble  one;  and  the  abhorrence  of  crimes 
painted  in  hideous  colors,  landed  many  a  person  beyond  the 
deep  source  of  sin  into  obscurity  itself.  Instead  of  seeing 
man  as  he  is,  as  nature  and  the  Bible  show  him  to  us,  a 
human  ideal  was  fancied,  which  can  be  found  nowhere,  and, 
instead  of  taking  the  relations  of  life  as  they  are,  and  as 
God  has  arranged  them,  there  arose  on  all  sides  and  in  all 
classes  of  society  an  increasing  discontent  with  existing  in- 
stitutions. The  hatred  of  all  advantages  of  birth,  of  wealth, 
and  of  outward  position  in  life,  was  nourished  by  overstrained 
ideas  of  human  rights,  as  propagated  in  many  of  the  plays 
of  that  day.  People  were  accustomed  to  regard  in  princes, 
ministers,  and  presidents,  as  they  passed  upon  the  stage,  the 
paragon  of  all  wickedness,  while  virtue  in  the  beggar's  garb 
was  the  more  affecting  exception.  The  connubial  and  domestic 
relations,  as  ordained  by  Christianity,  were  frequently  regarded 
from  apparently  freer  and  more  ingenious  points  of  view,  and 
much  was  allowed,  and  even  portrayed  as  duty,  which  Chris- 


THE  CHURCH  SERVICE  THEATRICIZED. 


141 


tianity  had  distinctly  stamped  as  sin.  A  "  criminal,  by  his 
lost  honor,"  and  a  highwayman,  through  his  magnanimity, 
awakened  sympathy  for  their  crimes;  adultery  was  justified 
by  "elective  affinities,"  and  suicide  again  appeared  in  the 
renewed  glory  of  ancient  heathendom.  Though  this  charge 
cannot  be  laid  at  the  door  oi  the  better  dramas,  nothing 
protected  them  against  misconception,  and  evil,  unless  it  was 
suppressed  at  its  very  outset,  passed  for  good;  for  what 
theatrical  criticism  has  ever  been  able  to  serve  two  masters: 
the  higher  moral  law,  and  the  caprices  and  lusts  of  the  public? 

Now,  what  had  the  church  to  do  amid  this  increasing 
power  of  the  theater,  and  the  force  of  the  recent  poetry, 
which  then  appeared  in  increasing  abundance  in  the  form  of 
romances?  Clamors  against,  and  derisions  of,  plays  and  ro- 
mances in  general  were  of  no  effect;  serious  and  temperate 
voices  of  warning,  as  that  of  Herder,  wrere  either  not  heard 
at  all  or  placed  in  the  same  category  with  the  blind  cry  of 
the  zealot.  An  unconditional  accommodation  to  the  taste  of 
the  times  was  still  less  advisable,  and  yet  it  frequently  took 
place  to  an  excessive  degree. 

There  was  not  only  approval  of  Schiller's  monologues  in 
sermons,1  but  it  was  thought  best  to  help  out  the  entire 
service  in  the  Protestant  church  by  a  theatrical  element,  such 
as  by  the  occasional  introduction  of  operatic  music,2  and  by 
the  decoration  of  the  church  on  special  occasions,  as  at  con- 
firmations. The  hymns,  as  already  remarked,  could  no  more 
draw  a  long  breath;  but  there  were  all  the  more  didactic 

1  The  Briefwechsel  zwischen  Schiller  und  Körner  (on  Herder)  is  one 
among  many  proofs  of  how  sadly  the  real  character  of  the  sermon  was 
mistaken  by  the  great  minds  of  the  century,  and  how  people  were  in- 
clined to  use  it  for  a  mere  enjoyment  of  art.  Vol.  I.  p.  131  ff.f  and  149. 
Schiller  thinks,  namely,  that  a  man  of  mind,  who  defends  preaching, 
must  be  very  contracted,  or  else  a  visionary  or  a  hypocrite.  To  this, 
Körner  replies:  "Why  should  not  the  man  of  intellect  take  pleasure  in 
a  masterpiece  of  eloquence,  which  is  in  harmony  with  his  purpose?" 

2  An  Easter-hymn  is  said  to  have  been  sung  to  the  tune  of:  "In  these 
Holy  Halls."  The  organists  also  dealt  very  freely  with  overtures  and  the 
like.  Schiller,  on  the  other  hand,  assigned  the  holiest  mystery  of  the 
church,  the  celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  a  place  between  the  scenes. 


142 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


religious  poems,  in  which  meditation  appeared  in  a  sentiment- 
al garb,  and  in  which  Schiller  was  chiefly  remembered.  I 
am  here  reminded  principally  of  Tiedge's  didactic  poem, 
Urania  (1801),  in  which  heaven  was  set  to  music,  and  the 
Kantian  faith  in  God  and  immortality  gradually  came  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  doubter.  The  poem  has  unquestionably 
many  beautiful  passages;1    but  very  few  could  have  gained 

1  The  very  beginning  of  the  poem  expresses  the  doubter's  pain,  just 
as  it  may  have  passed  through  many  souls: 

"There  burnt  in  me  a  life, 
That  promised  laurelled  days; 
And  on  my  youthful  cheek, 
There  shone  Hope's  cheering  rays. 
On  murmuring  waves  I  saw 
The  picture  Fancy  drew, — 
Proud,  beauteous  forms  did  glide, 
Swan-like,  before  my  view. 
More  swiftly  flew  the  hours, 
As  I,  half  dreaming,  stood, 
Until,  far  as  I  saw, 
A  desert  land  I  viewed. 
A  wider  view  I  sought, 
Though  with  unsteady  light, 
But  only  dreams  I  saw;  — 
Of  truth  I  had  no  sight. 
Poor  is  that  light  indeed, 
Which  only  night  reveals; 
Weak  is  that  faith  indeed, 
Which  wisdom  ne'er  unseals." 

In  the  same  way,  many  a  youthful  spirit  may  have  felt  elevated  by 
the  following  passage: 

"Yes,  friend,  we  shall  not  cease  to  be, 
But  in  the  beautiful  and  good 
Will  joy.    Our  life  shall  harmonize 
With  other  souls  of  beauty  rare. 
Then  will  the  searcher  after  truth 
Behold  the  sacred  mysteries; 
And  his  virtues,  calm  and  lustrous, 
Shall  soar  away  on  freer  wing 
To  higher  realms  of  light.   Then  on 
Its  radiant  brow  will  shine  the  seal 
Of  holy  immortality." 


METRICAL  PRAYERS  SUBSTITUTED  FOR  THE  LITURGY.  143 

from  it  a  strong  and  victorious  faith  if  they  had  not  already 
been  in  possession  of  it,  and  had  not  been  supported  by  other 
impressions.  Witschel  and  others  harmonize  in  the  same 
notes.  Every  one  may  decide  for  himself,  whether  domestic 
edification  was  more  promoted  by  the  reading  of  such  poems 
than  by  the  singing  of  a  hymn ;  but,  in  every  case,  it  was  a 
misconception  on  the  part  of  those  who  attempted  to  elevate 
public  worship  by  substituting  metrical  prayers  for  the  old 
liturgical  forms,  just  as  if  poetry,  which  had  been  violently 
banished  from  the  service,  could  be  again  introduced  by 
praying,  with  Witschel,  instead  of  the  plain  words  of  the 
Lord's  Prayer,  as  they  stand  in  the  Bible,  such  as  these: 

"Father,  whom  Jesus  hath  revealed, — 
A  name  our  spirit  speaks  with  trust; 
Father!  Heaven  keeps  Thee  not  from  earth, 
Nor  boundless  space  from  those  Thou  lov'st." 

Or,  with  Mahlmann: 

"Thou  hast  Thy  pillars  placed, 
And  reared  Thy  temple  high; 
In  it  my  eye  of  faith, 
Thee,  Father,  doth  descry. 
Thy  power  divine  is  seen 
In  morning's  splendor  rare; 
The  myriad  stars  of  night 
Thy  glory  do  declare! 
All  that  hath  life  before  Thee  lies, 
All  that  hath  life  to  Thee  replies: 
'Father,  in  heaven  Thou  art.'" 

We  would  not  hereby  impeach  the  value  of  these  and  similar 
poems,  for  there  is  in  them,  especially  in  Mahlmann's,  an 
elevated  element;  they  have  also  undoubtedly  had  a  benefi- 
cial influence  upon  many  a  mind,  particularly  the  young, — 
an  influence  far  more  salutary  than  the  exciting  political 
poetry  now  offered  to  us  as  that  which  alone  can  save  us, 
and  which  our  youth  are  reading  with  such  eagerness.  There- 
fore, we  must  do  full  justice  to  those  poems,  in  their  place. 

But  there  was  always  a  smack  of  the  false  theatrical  taste, 
when  there  was  a  disposition  to  produce  an  effect  in  .churches 


144 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


by  the  public  declamation  of  such  prayers,  or  even  to  supplant 
them  by  the  simple  language  of  the  Scriptures.  There  was 
evident  here  that  unfortunate  mixture  of  departments  of  which 
we  have  spoken,  the  total  want  of  ecclesiastical  perception, 
and  the  inability  to  bring  out  a  noble  production  from  the 
fullness  of  Christian  life.  But  where  was  this  fullness?  As 
the  fountain  had  been  largely  exhausted  and  filled  up,  where 
could  fresh  water  flow?  Yet  even  the  sentimental  aberration 
would  have  its  day,  for  it  was  destined  to  pass  away  with 
Rationalism,  with  which  it  had  leagued  itself,  to  give  place 
for  other  phenomena.  But  the  relation  of  the  recent  poetry 
and  of  art  in  general  to  religion,  and  of  both  to  morality, 
had  to  be  penetrated  more  deeply,  and  each  one  traced  back 
to  its  principles.  This  was  not  the  work  of  one  individual, 
but  of  many,  in  reciprocal,  cooperative  strength ;  it  was  not 
the  mission  of  a  few  years,  but  of  a  number  of  decades,  even 
of  half  a  century,  so  that  we  cannot  yet  boast  of  being  at 
the  end  of  this  process,  although  the  elements  have  now  be- 
come more  settled  and  distinct. 

But  before  we  follow  this  process  further,  we  must  refer 
to  the  revolutions  that  took  place  in  public  and  domestic 
education,  which  shall  be  the  subject  of  our  next  lecture. 


LECTURE  VIII 


REFORM  OF  THE  EDUCATIONAL  SYSTEM. — HERDER'S  VIEWS  ON 
BASEDOW.  —  HIS  OWN  EDUCATIONAL  PRINCIPLES.  —  SCHOOL 
ADDRESSES.  —  SALZMANN.  —  CAMPE.  —  PESTALOZZI,  AND  HIS 
RELATION  TO  CHRISTIANITY. 

We  are  firmly  convinced,  that  the  change  in  the  religious 
and  moral  horizon  about  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  and  the 
beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century,  was  thorough  and  multi- 
form. Everywhere  we  find  a  new  tendency  arising,  and  com- 
ing in  conflict  with  the  old.  As  Kant  had  thrown  down  the 
colossal  edifice  of  the  older  philosophy,  and  given  a  new  im- 
pulse to  thought,  so  did  Schiller  and  Goethe  commence  a  new 
epoch  in  belles-lettres.  Though  Kant  and  Schiller  pursued 
a  widely  different  career,  and  their  efforts  seemed  to  be  far 
apart,  they  really  exerted  one  and  the  same  influence;  for 
one  spoke  with  the  keen  criticism  of  the  philosopher,  the 
other,  with  the  entrancing  language  of  the  poet;  the  one 
from  the  professor's  chair,  the  other  from  the  stage.  They 
met  together  in  the  dissolving  tendency  opposed  to  the  old 
forms  of  ecclesiastical  life,  and  in  the  struggle  after  an  ideal 
moral  condition,  which,  instead  of  resting  upon  the  positive 
support  of  revealed  religion,  was  entirely  based  upon  the 
power  of  freedom  and  the  impregnable  principles  of  reason. 
Thus  Kantianism  drew  Rationalism  after  it,  and  the  poetry 
of  Schiller  promoted  that  sesthetical  sentimentality  with  which 
it  was  attempted  to  supply  the  aridity  of  Rationalism.  It 
was  with  this  new  philosophy  and  new  poetic  tendency  that 
the  new  principles  of  education  were  intimately  connected; 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


not  that  these  principles  were  first  employed  to  make  the 
new  doctrines  of  the  century  more  influential  upon  youth; 
but  that  they  had  no  agreement  with  either  one  department 
or  the  other,  yet  gaining  an  influence  through  means  appar- 
ently independent  of  both,  they  produced  a  powerful  effect 
upon  philosophy  and  poetry,  and  prepared  their  way  to 
greater  power. 

Even  before  Kant  gave  birth  to  his  Critique,  amid  the  dis- 
cussions of  the  so-called  popular  philosophers,  and  before 
Schiller's  name  was  known,  though  in  the  period  of  intellect- 
ual awakening  and  literary  fermentation,  Rousseau's  principles 
had  begun  to  excite  the  heads  and  hearts  of  the  Germans, 
and  to  strike  their  deepest  root  in  the  department  of  edu- 
cation, especially  after  the  time  of  Basedow  (whom  we  have 
treated  already),  who  made  philanthropism  the  great  mission 
of  German  national  culture.1 

Formerly,  the  church  had  directed  education  in  the  schools, 
and  transplanted  its  own  principles  into  the  family,  but  the 
time  of  emancipation  and  of  more  general  participation  in 
the  school-system  had  now  arrived.  A  philanthropic  training 
now  arose  beside  the  old  one;  one  institution  dispossessed 
the  other,  and  one  method  superseded  the  other.  Basedow 
was  succeeded  by  Salzmann  and  Campe,  both  of  whom,  like 
their  predecessor,  strove  to  reform  theology  by  education, 
and  the  church  by  the  school;  or,  rather,  to  make  each 
necessary  to  the  other. 

Before  we  examine  more  closely  this  disorganizing  effort, 
and  turn  to  the  consideration  of  Pestalozzi,  the  noblest  rep- 
resentative of  later  education,  we  must  return  to  the  earlier 
state  of  things,  and  look  at  the  school  in  connection  with  the 
church.  And  here  again  wre  meet  with  the  picture  of  Herder, 
an  examination  of  whose  principles  on  schools  and  education 
we  have  postponed  until  the  present.  It  is  remarkable  that, 
though  Herder  was  a  man  of  progress,  he  nevertheless  took 
the  part  of  opposition  rather  than  of  friendship  to  all  those 
movements  which  gave  rise  to  the  intellectual  life  of  recent 
times.  Thus,  as  we  have  seen,  he  declared  against  the  critical 

1  Compare  Vol.  I.  p.  301. 


Basedow's  method  opposed  by  herder.  147 

philosophy;  nor  could  he  give  his  undivided  support  to  the 
tendency  of  Schiller's  poetry.  And  of  Basedow  and  his  method 
of  instruction  he  once  expressed  himself  strongly  to  Hamann, 
that,  from  his  personal  knowledge  of  the  man,  he  would  not 
give  him  even  calves  to  train,  to  say  nothing  of  human  beings.1 
"His  method,"  says  Herder,  "is  like  that  of  a  gardener  who 
would  take  the  taproot  of  the  young  oak  completely  out  of 
the  earth,  to  let  everything  above  ground  shoot  out  in 
tmnk  and  branches." 

But  we  would  greatly  err  if  we  imagined  that  Herder  pre- 
feired  to  adhere  tenaciously  to  what  was  antiquated.  On 
the  contrary,  he  here  displays  his  prophetic  spirit,  inasmuch 
as,  beyond  the  innovations  of  his  time,  he  already  foresaw, 
and  bore  within  himself,  that  lofty  ideal  reserved  for  later 
days  to  realize.  Indeed,  as  in  spite  of  all  his  opposition  to 
Kant,  his  own  efforts  often  coincided  with  those  of  that 
philosopher;  and  as  he  shared  with  Schiller  the  ideal  eleva- 
tion of  the  intellect,  so  do  we  find  him  harmonizing  with 
Basedow  and  the  philanthropists  in  many  of  their  views  con- 
cerning the  reform  of  the  school.  He  did  not  reject  the 
ideas  of  Basedow  in  the  lump;  he  was  only  opposed  to  the 
way  in  which  he  carried  them  out.  As  far  back  as  1769, 
Herder  wrote  a  statement  of  his  ideal  of  a  school,  in  which 
he  remarkably  coincided  with  Basedow,  though  in  some  points 
he  opposed  him.  With  him,  he  expressed  a  decided  dis- 
like of  the  despotism  exercised  at  that  time  in  schools  by 
the  Latin  language;  and  he  called  it  papistical  and  Gothic.2 
It  was  his  opinion,  in  common  with  the  recent  general  senti- 
ment on  the  pedagogical  system,  that  boys  should  be  taught 
a  knowledge  of  things  they  see  about  them,  before  their 
memory  is  burdened  with  names  of  those  far  distant;  and 
that  therefore  all  instruction  should  be  adapted,  as  far  as 
possible,  to  the  life  and  circumstances  of  the  child.  "It 
should  be  a  chief  aim  of  the  teacher  to  give  to  the  boy 
living  conceptions  of  everything  which  he  sees,  speaks,  and 
enjoys,  so  as  to  place  him  in  his  own  world,  and  to  impress 

1  See  Hamann's  Werlte,  Vol.  V.  p.  184. 

2  See  Schillreden,  Anhang,  p.  269. 


148 


HISTORY  OF   THE  CHURCH. 


upon  his  mind  the  necessity  of  the  enjoyment  of  it  during 
his  whole  life  time."1 

But  however  much  Herder  coincided  with  Rousseau  and 
Basedow  on  human  culture  and  the  development  of  knowl- 
edge of  the  world,  he  could  not  agree  with  them  in  their 
refusal  to  instruct  in  the  knowledge  of  divine  things,  and  in 
the  principles  of  religious  culture  generally.  Here  he  stood 
on  positive  ground,  and  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
arts  by  which  children  were  first  made  acquainted  with  God, 
or  with  the  soft  by-paths  in  which  it  was  thought  they  could 
best  be  brought  to  heaven.  "Luther's  Catechism,"  says 
Herder,  in  sharp  contrast  with  the  untimely  philanthropizing 
and  reforming,  "must  be  committed  to  memory,  and  there 
remain  forever.  Its  declarations  are  a  treasure  of  duties  and 
human  knowledge.  What  Basedow  says  concerning  the  Jewish 
Decalogue  may  be  said  of  it,  that  it  contains  a  beautiful 
system  of  morals  for  children.1'  He  pronounces  a  similar 
opinion  on  Biblical  narratives,  which  he  would  have  care- 
fully selected  to  suit  the  first  stages  of  youth.  It  was  Her- 
der's sincere  conviction,  that  sound  Scriptural  instruction  will 
secure  the  respect  and  understanding  of  religion  for  all  life, 
and  that  it  is  the  best  means  of  creating  a  new  Christian 
public. 

Herder's  views  on  language  and  its  growth,  not  less  than 
on  religion,  were  more  profound  than  those  of  the  realistic 
pedagogues  of 'that  time.  How  could  he  have  undervalued 
linguistic  instruction  who  spoke  of  language  and  reason  as 
one?  And  when  he  found  fault  with  the  excessive  use  of 
Latin,  he  gave  the  greater  glory  to  his  mother  tongue,  to 
whose  advancement  he  contributed  excellent  hints.  His  chief 
pedagogical  principles  were  enunciated  in  his  School  Addresses, 
delivered  at  Weimar  and  collected  and  published  under  the 
name  of  Sophron.  We  find  occasionally  in  them  an  echo  of 
that  ecclesiastical  tone  and  firmness  which  ever  became  more 
scarce  in  the  language  of  the  schools.  Herder  was  not 
ashamed  to  designate  schools  as  the  workshops  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.   "  Our  forefathers,"  he  says  in  one  of  these  addresses, 

1  Schulreden,  Anhang,  p.  271. 


HERDER  ON  RELIGIOUS  INSTRUCTION. 


149 


"termed  schools  the  workshops  of  God's  spirit;  an  ancestral 
designation  which  some  may  be  surprised  that  I  do  not 
displace  by  calling  them  the  temple  of  Apollo,  the  Muses, 
and  the  Graces.  But  the  term,  rightly  understood,  expresses  a 
great  fact,  and  in  a  truer  and  more  spiritual  manner  than 
can  be  conveyed  by  all  those  idolatrous  expressions  concerning 
the  temple  of  Apollo,  the  Muses,  and  the  Graces." 

All  education,  according  to  Herder,  should  aim  to  give  to 
man  an  inner  force,  an  indwelling  wisdom,  a  clear  vision, 
an  acute  understanding,  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  without  whom 
all  acquired  knowledge  and  accomplishment  become  only  worth- 
less apparatus  and  instruments  of  destruction.    "  How  beauti- 
fully," he  says,  "  does  every  perceptible  trace  of  moral  culture 
adorn  the  child  and  the  young  man!  Is  there  anywhere  a 
nobler  brow  or  a  more  beautiful  eye  than  in  a  person  where 
discipline,  modesty,  sincerity,  confidence,  discretion,  love,  and 
the  Spirit  of  God  are  centered?  Is  there  more  attractiveness 
of  manners  and  features  than  such  as  you  find  constantly 
anointed  for  great  activity  with  spotless  innocence  and  mild 
pleasantness,  as  with  the  oil  of  gladness?  The  expression  of 
the  Hebrew  young  man  who  had  been  filled  by  the  Spirit  of 
God  from  his  childhood:   'How  then  can  I  do  this  great 
wickedness,  and  sin  against  God'  (the  Holy  One  who  is  in 
me)?,  is  so  beautiful  and  powerful  that  it  seems  able  of  it- 
self to  preserve  a  young  man  who  possesses  this  Holy  One 
and  feels  that  he  is  a  temple  for  the  indwelling  of  the  Divine 
Spirit,  from  everything  sordid,  degrading,  and  common.  .   .  V 
All  distinguished  characters  have  possessed  this  lofty  feeling, 
which  has  distinguished  them  from  lower  minds,  and  preserved 
them  from  contact  with  the  unworthy,  vulgar  and  base.  It 
was  their  protection  and  defence,  their  counsellor  and  watch- 
man, their  admonishing  friend  and  attendant  genius,  who,  in- 
stead of  urging  them  along  the  broad  highway  of  luxuriant 
fancy  and  lustfulness,  impelled  them  to  take  the  narrow  way, 
and  enter  through  the  gates.  He  exclaims :  "  May  God's  Spirit 
return  to  the  schools,  to  lay  a  solid  basis  in  the  young  mind, 
to  give  it  a  strong  and  pure  character,  which  will  not  allow 
itself  to  be  seduced  by  the  loose  immorality,  coarse  insolence 


150 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


and  impertinent  obtrusiveness  that  we  now  find  in  lavish  plenty 
in  so  many  books." 

In  the  same  address,  and  in  several  others,  he  expresses 
his  sorrow  at  the  rudeness  of  his  times,  the  false  worship 
ot  genius,  premature  authorship,  and  the  wish  to  amuse,  in 
a  language  which  would  be  in  place  at  the  present  time. 
We  have  already  observed,  that  Herder's  principles  on  re- 
ligious instruction,  even  in  his  early  plan  for  a  school, 
deviated  from  the  Philanthropia.  He  afterward  remained 
true  to  his  early  convictions.  "It  is  not  well  to  moralize 
much  on  religion  to  children;  but  a  permanent  impression 
is  made  by  explaining  well  the  doctrines  and  proofs,  and 
supporting  the  rules  of  morality  by  such  a  basis  and  example 
as  are  furnished  by  common  life,  and  Biblical  and  other 
history."  In  accordance  with  these  opinions  he  revised  even 
the  Lutheran  Catechism,  which  he  greatly  preferred  to  all 
those  new-fashioned  catechisms  that  moralized  and  reasoned 
so  much.  "  From  the  twenty  or  thirty  catechisms, 11  he  wrote 
to  his  associates,  "which  I  now  have  before  me,  I  have  de- 
rived much  advantage;  but  there  is  no  one  which  deserves, 
in  all  respects,  to  be  made  a  basis,  because  in  the  most  of 
them  the  language  is  too  artistic,  labored  and  theological, 
while  the  most  shameful  neglect  prevails  in  others."  Finally, 
Herder  was  interested  in  the  establishment  at  Weimar  of  a 
seminary  for  the  education  of  teachers;  and  it  is  not  without 
importance  in  our  times,  when  there  is  so  much  discussion 
on  public  schools  and  their  necessary  reforms,  to  know  the 
views  of  a  man  whom  we  can  by  no  means  call  a  blockhead. 

"  The  object  of  a  seminary,"  Herder  declares  at  the  outset, 
"is  not  to  endow  the  young  people  who  wish  to  become 
country  school-teachers  with  a  useless  kind  of  illuminism 
which  may  enable  them  to  think  themselves  overwise,  and 
cause  them  to  teach  their  future  pupils  more  harm  than  good; 
for  too  much  clearness  and  reasoning,  thoughtlessly  spread 
where  they  do  not  belong,  contribute  neither  to  the  advan- 
tage of  the  state,  nor  to  the  happiness  of  the  individual,  nor 
to  the  well-being  of  lowly  private  life.  Still  less  is  it  the 
purpose  of  the  seminary  to  afford  a  comfortable  existence  to 


SALZMANN,  AND  HIS  PEDAGOGICAL  WRITINGS.  151 

young  people,  etc.  But  its  only  aim,  apart  from  all  the 
ostentation  and  pedagogical  playthings  of  our  times,  is  rather 
to  furnish  those  young  people  who  dedicate  themselves  to  the 
profession  of  teaching  with  a  good  opportunity  to  learn  what 
is  really  necessary  and  useful  to  their  future  calling,  by  in- 
struction and  self-discipline;  for  the  best  qualification  of  a 
school-teacher  is  only  acquired  by  method  and  discipline." 
Herder,  the  great  promulgator  of  humanity,  was  also  far 
removed  from  all  the  effeminacy  of  the  so-called  philanthro- 
pism.  Discipline  was,  in  his  opinion,  the  indispensable  require- 
ment of  a  good  school.  A  large  number  can  not  be  kept 
together  without  order,  disposition,  and  regularity.  "That  is 
a  good  school  which  enjoins  good  discipline,  much  and  rigid 
exercise  in  goodness  and  in  all  those  qualities  which  should 
adorn  youth.  That  is  only  a  true  and  good  gymnasium  which, 
in  virtues  as  well  as  in  intellectual  endowments,  is  a  daily 
scene  of  conflict  of  noble  souls,  who  strive  to  improve  them- 
selves by  industry  and  emulation.  Where  this  training  and 
exercise  in  useful  science  and  morality  are  wanting,  you  will 
see  a  Dead  Sea,  though  inhabited  by  all  the  Muses."  Thus 
far  with  Herder. 

Proceeding  to  notice  the  further  developments  in  the  de- 
partment of  instruction,  we  come  next  to  Salzmann  and  Campe. 
Chiistian  Gotthilf  Salzmann,  who  was  born  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Erfurt,  in  the  same  year  with  Herder,  1744,  was 
first  a  clergyman,  and  became  pastor  of  a  church  in  Erfurt. 
But  in  1781  he  voluntarily  relinquished  his  pastorate,  in  order 
to  cooperate  in  Basedow's  Philanthropin  in  Dessau.  While 
a  preacher  he  published  many  educational  works,  in  which  he 
assailed  the  slow  course  of  prevalent  training;  for  example, 
in  his  Crab-Book,  or  Advice  on  the  Unreasonable  Training 
of  Children.  He  likewise  expressed  himself  decidedly  for  the 
illuministic  tendency  in  religion,  and  laid  down  his  views  in 
his  work  on  The  Best  Means  of  Teaching  Religion  to  Children. 
In  his  Conrad  Kiefer,  or  Advice  on  the  More  Reasonable 
Training  of  Children,  he  earnestly  resisted  the  prevalent 
orthodox  method  of  education,  and  especially  the  committing 
to  memory  such  passages  and  verses  as  children  could  not  yet 


152 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


understand ;  he  would  prefer  his  Conradian  dove  should  pick 
up  grains  rather  than  learn  the  catechism. 

The  department  of  religious  instruction  in  the  Philanthropin 
at  Dessau  was  committed  to  him;  and  it  was  here  that  he 
delivered  his  Lectures  on  the  Piety  of  the  Institute,  which  he 
published  in  1781 — 1783.  Here,  too,  morality  plays  the  chief 
part;  it  consists  of  a  general  religious  feeling,  and  is  often 
vitalized  and  invigorated  by  the  sense  of  God's  omnipresence 
and  omniscience.  Salzmann  was  unquestionably  impressed  by 
this  religious  feeling,  as  is  manifested  in  his  didactic  romance, 
Carl  of  Carlsberg  on  Human  Misery,  and  chiefly  in  his  trust 
in  God,  which,  like  Stilling,  he  preserved  in  all  his  enterprises. 
In  1784  he  left  Dessau  and  established  an  institution  of  his 
own  at  Schnepfenthal,  in  Gotha,  which  soon  attracted  pupils 
from  the  different  countries  of  Europe,  and  continued  in  its 
prosperous  course  until  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  cent- 
ury, when  its  glory  began  to  wane.  During  the  period  of 
its  prosperity  he  continued,  by  the  agency  of  his  popular  and 
juvenile  works,  to  propagate  his  new  philanthropic  principles 
of  education,  and  to  recommend  a  Christianity  that  manifests 
itself  in  love,  in  opposition  to  a  dead  orthodoxy.  In  his  work 
on  Heaven  on  Earth,  whose  language  is  sometimes  fanatical, 
he  earnestly  recommends  this  love,  and  makes  it  appear  as 
an  angel,  existing  in  every  benevolent  heart,  making  itself 
felt  in  the  most  intimate  relations  of  life,  and  bringing  us 
into  nearness  with  God,  whom,  otherwise,  we  seek  in  vain 
high  above  the  stars.  In  these  times  we  are  accustomed  to 
associate  the  names  of  Basedow,  Salzmann  and  Campe  with 
that  defective  illuminism  of  the  mind  promoted  by  these  men; 
but  we  should  do  at  least  Salzmann  great  injustice  to  deny 
him  the  possession  of  all  religious  feeling.  We  confess  that 
this  feeling  approached  that  sentimentality  spoken  of  in  the 
last  lecture,  which  not  only  strove  to  liberate  itself  from 
ecclesiastical  forms  but  to  array  itself  against  them.  But 
his  apology  must  be  found  in  the  fact,  that  these  forms  were 
frequently  hard  and  petrified,  and  sometimes  appeared  to  com- 
bine the  insensibility  of  a  block  with  the  orthodoxy  of  a 
zealous  churchman. 


CAMPE,  AND  HIS  VIEWS  ON  POETRY  AND  UTILITY.  153 

Joachim  Henry  Campe,  a  man  of  less  emotion  than  Salz- 
mann,  was  born  in  Brunswick  in  1746.    He  was  a  theologian 
at  the  outset,  and  in  1773  became  chaplain  to  the  regiment 
of  the  Prince  of  Prussia  at  Potsdam;1  but  subsequently,  after 
Basedow's  departure,  he  conducted   the  Philanthropin  at 
Dessau.    Afterward  he  took  charge  of  a  private  school  at 
Hamburg,  which  he  in  turn  gave  up.    He  died  in  1818,  at 
Brunswick,  at  the  age  of  seventy-two.    Campe  constituted  a 
strong  contrast  to  the  sentimentality  prevailing  in  belles-lettres. 
He  numbered  poetry  among  the  useless  arts;  even  in  bar- 
barous times  it  was  at  most  only  a  sorry  substitute  for  the 
light  of  reason,  but  now  can  only  be  compared  to  a  lantern 
in  broad  daylight,  or,  rather,  to  a  lamp-post,  before  which 
no  reasonable  man  should  take  off  his  hat.2  With  secta- 
rianism and  moral  rigorism  he   forbade,  in  his  Paternal 
Counsel  to  my  Daughter,  all  association  with  literary  char- 
acters, whom  he  regarded  almost  indiscriminately  as  the 
corrupters  of  youth.3   It  is  knowTn  that  no  one  carried  the 
theory  of  utility  so  far  as  he ;  and  therefore  the  useful  man, 
who  knows  how  to  help  himself  in  all  the  conditions  of  life, 
was  his  ideal  in  education.    His  Robinson  Crusoe,  now  widely 
known,  bears  on  every  page  the  theme:  "Help  yourself,  and 
God  will  help  you."  And  confidence  in  the  help  of  God  was, 
with  him,  not  merely  a  figure  of  speech,  for,  however  much 
Campe  opposed  the  Protestant  doctrinal  system,  and  however 
bitter  were  his  denunciations  of  certain  parts  of  it,4  he  yet 
made  morality  and  self-conquest  serious  matters,  and  believed 
in  a  special  divine  control  of  our  fortunes.  He  therefore  be- 
lieved also  in  the  hearing  of  prayer. 

This  is  that  admirable,  but  still  not  fully  appreciated,  side 

1  His  lectures  are  said  to  have  been  very  attentively  listened  to, 
because  of  their  moral  import,  by  officers  who  had  a  low  opinion  of 
sermons  in  general. 

2  See  Thepphron,  1786,  Vol.  L  p.  175. 

3  He  said  to  Goethe  himself,  that  he  was  unable  to  make  much  out 
of  him  or  his  art.   See  Goethe's  Gespräche  mit  Eckermann,  Yol.  III.  p.  332. 

4  In  his  Theophron  he  calls  original  sin  the  doctrine  of  the  atrabi- 
larious  Augustine! 


154 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


of  Campe's  character  and  of  Rationalism  in  general:  moral 
earnestness,  and  that  clinging  to  religion,  amid  every  conflict, 
as  opposed  to  ecclesiasticism,  and  sometimes  even  to  Chris- 
tianity. Campe's  mind  was,  on  the  whole,  reformatory, — 
a  trait  that  betrayed  itself  in  the  department  of  the  Ger- 
man language,  which,  it  is  well  known,  he  attempted  to 
purify  from  all  the  foreign  excrescences  that  had  been  con- 
stantly increasing  since  the  French  domination.  His  effort 
commands  all  respect.  Purity  of  language  is,  in  a  certain 
sense,  purity  of  manners,  and  Campe  placed  it  on  the  same 
moral  basis  as  Herder,  who,  though  he  opposed  all  foreignism, 
did  not  keep  himself  free  from  it.  Campe  would  proceed 
radically,  but  from  a  Rationalistic  or  abstract  theory,  and 
without  regard  to  historical  development.  It  is  with  language 
as  with  religion,  and  with  isolated  words  in  a  language  as 
with  single  doctrines;  such  things  do  not  allow  themselves 
to  be  discovered,  or  dug  out  in  the  student's  cloister,  and 
thrust  upon  others  by  the  exercise  of  arbitrary  authority. 
Campe  would  forestall  this  development,  and  substitute  words 
of  his  own  manufacture  for  those  foreign  ones  that  had  be- 
come established  by  force  of  time.  His  effort  did  not  succeed. 
Language,  like  religious  conceptions,  must  be  purified  by  the 
influence  of  many  other  cooperative  causes ;  it  must  be  newly 
born  of  life  itself,  as  was  the  case  with  Luther,  and  more 
recently  with  Goethe,  who,  notwithstanding  his  use  of  foreign 
words,  wras  of  more  benefit  to  the  German  language  than 
Campe  with  all  his  new  words.  And  in  the  same  way  many 
a  thing  in  religion  and  ecclesiasticism  has  been  developed  into 
life  in  quite  a  different  and  better  manner  than  was  marked 
out  by  the  theory  of  Rationalism. 

It  now  came  to  pass,  even  in  education,  that  not  only  were 
theories  originated  and  institutes  founded,  but  a  man  of  the 
people  stepped  forth  from  the  common  popular  life,  who, 
without  calculation  but  with  enthusiasm,  devoted  himself  to 
the  noble  work  of  making  the  education  of  youth  that  great 
achievement  for  which  the  times  were  longing.  We  mean 
Pestalozzi.  When  Christ  says:  "By  their  fruits  ye  shall 
know  them,"  and  "whosoever  receiveth  one  of  these  little 


PESTALOZZIS  RELATION  TO  CHRISTIANITY.  155 

ones  receiveth  me,"  and  when  he  praises  practical  love  as 
the  sign  by  which  he  recognized  his  disciples,  and  when  he 
contrasts  heathen  care  and  anxiety  with  that  trust  in  God 
which  cares  not  for  the  morrow,  but  leaves  all  care  to  the 
Heavenly  Father,  the  question  is  at  once  decided,  whether 
John  Henry  Pestalozzi,  whom  we  are  now  considering,  was 
really  a  Christian.1  Public  opinion  has  in  later  days  been 
divided  concerning  him,  as  concerning  Schiller,  some  holding 
that  he  denied  Christianity,  while  others  are  his  ardent  de- 
fenders.2 As  long  as  the  Scriptures  admonish  us  on  the  one 
hand  to  try  the  spirits,  and  ask,  on  the  other:  "Who  art 
thou  that  judgest  another  man's  servant?",  we  are  furnished 
with  indices  sufficient  for  our  information. 

History  most  certainly  enjoys  the  right  to  summon  all, 
even  the  noblest,  human  characters,  before  its  judgment-bar; 
and  thus  a  history  which  undertakes  to  portray  the  develop- 
ment of  Christian  life  in  its  most  varied  forms,  possesses  the 
right  to  ask,  in  reference  to  every  personage :  How,  so  far  as 
we  know,  was  he  related  to  original  Christianity?  How  far 
do  we  recognize  the  Christian  principle  in  him?  And  it  must 
not  be  regarded  as  want  of  affection  or  ingratitude,  if,  con- 
cerning such  men  as  we  highly  esteem,  and  regard  as  the 
champions  of  their  times,  as  formerly  in  the  case  of  Schiller, 
and  now  with  Pestalozzi,  we  should  attempt  to  answer  the 
question:  "How  was  their  general  view  of  life  related  to 
Christianity?"  We  must  be  careful  in  judging  the  person 
himself;  and  even  when  we  comprehend  the  fact,  we,  as 
erring  men,  must  be  on  our  guard  lest  our  standard  of  Chris- 
tianity be  incorrect,  or  lest  the  deeds  be  reported  to  us  so 

1  "The  individuality  of  my  strength  lay  in  the  vitality  with  which 
my  heart  impelled  me  to  give  and  seek  love  wherever  I  could  find  it; 
to  act  and  suffer  pleasantly  and  meekly;  to  conquer  and  take  care  of 
myself.  I  knew  no  higher  joy  than  the  eye  of  gratitude  and  the  grasp 
of  confidence.  I  sought  out  the  poor,  and  willingly  tarried  with  them." 
Is  any  further  confession  needed? 

2  Ramsauer,  Kurze  Skizze  meines  pädag.  Lebens.  Oldenburg,  1838.  On 
the  contrary,  F.  K.  Burkhardt,  War  Heinrich  Pestalozzi  ein  Ungläubiger? 
Leipzig,  1841. 

Vol.  IL— 11 


156 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


incompletely  that  we  cannot  form  a  correct  judgment.  The 
truth  can  be  obtained  only  where  such  inquiries  are  conducted 
with  care  and  modesty,  in  the  interest  of  truth  and  in  the  spirit 
of  Christian  love;  for  a  great  mind  is  as  little  honored  by 
excessive  admiration,  devoid  of  all  criticism,  as  if  its  honor 
were  attacked  by  passionate  abuse  and  rough  condemnation. 
We  will,  therefore,  first  consider  Pestalozzis  character  and 
works,  that  we  may  then  form  an  opinion  on  the  man.  We 
can  do  this  best  by  referring  to  the  portraiture  of  him  written 
a  few  years  ago  by  one  of  the  best  educators  in  Basle.1 

Born  on  the  12th  of  January,  1746,  Pestalozzi  lost  his  parents 
very  early,  and  grew  up  under  the  care  of  an  afflicted  mother 
and  the  watchful  eye  of  a  grandfather,  the  latter  of  whom 
preserved  in  ancestral  simplicity  the  type  of  a  pious  evan- 
gelical preacher.  His  progress  in  school  was  unequal.  Awk- 
ward and  clumsy  in  his  intercourse  with  students,  his  teacher 
prophesied  that  no  good  would  ever  come  of  him.  Thought- 
lessness and  improvidence  led  him  into  many  a  difficulty  in 
his  youth;  but  his  pure  disposition  compensated  inwardly  for 
many  of  the  rough  outward  impressions,  and  his  genial 
temperament  helped  him  out  of  many  sore  embarrassments. 
Whenever  he  met  with  any  great  offence,  he  manifested  the 
same  confident  spirit  that  we  have  seen  in  young  Lavater,  in 
his  day. 

Basedow,  Salzmann  and  Campe  had  all  chosen  the  theological 
career,  but  Pestalozzi  early  took  a  different  course,  and 
devoted  himself  to  law.  But  he  forsook  this  study  too,  having 
now  determined  to  become  a  school-master.  And  he  became 
such  an  one  as  few  have  been,  or,  as  an  enthusiastic  admirer 
has  called  him,  "a  school-master  of  the  human  race."  He 
was  one  fundamentally,  and  therefore  in  the  highest  sense  of 
the  term.  At  Neuhof,  near  Lenzburg,  where  his  attempted 

1  A.  Heussler,  Pestalozzis  Leistungen  im  Erziehung sf ache.  Basle,  1838. 
Since  then  the  Pestalozzi  Celebration  has  occasioned  the  publication  of 
many  works,  more  or  less  important,  concerning  him.  We  would  call 
special  attention  to  K.  J.  Blochmann's  Heinrich  Pestalozzi:  Züge  aus  dem 
Bilde  seines  Lebens  und  Wirkens.  Leipzig,  1846.  On  Pestalozzis  Chris- 
tian standpoint,  compare  the  same  work,  p.  161  ff. 


PESTALOZZI,  HIS  DIFFICULTIES  AND  FINAL  SUCCESS.  157 

agricultural  enterprise  failed,  he  founded  his  Poor-School  for 
the  Children  of  Beggars,  in  1775;  and  Isaac  Iselin  of  Basle 
was  one  of  the  first  who  came  to  his  aid.  This  man  assisted 
him  in  the  publication  of  his  first  popular  book,  Lienhard 
and  Gertrude,  in  1781,  which,  from  his  poverty,  he  had 
written  upon  the  blank  pages  of  old  account  books.  Pesta- 
lozzi himself  confesses,  that,  without  his  noble  friend  Iselin, 
he  would  probably  have  ever  remained  in  the  mire  of  obscurity. 
For  there  were  but  few  who  recognized  his  inner  worth;  in- 
gratitude, and  ignorance  ot  his  best  opinions  became  his  early 
lot;  and  his  own  incapacity  for  the  outward  management  of 
his  household  matters  caused  him  now,  as  later,  many  a 
difficulty.  But  Pestalozzis  greatness  shone  forth  in  its  bright- 
est glory  after  the  misfortunes  brought  upon  Germany  by 
France,  after  the  year  of  1798,  over  the  smoking  ruins  of 
Stanz,  where,  supported  by  the  Swiss  Directory,  he  became 
a  faithful  and  loving  father  to  the  orphan  children.  He  di- 
vided every  morsel  of  bread  with  them,  slept  among  them, 
and  would  not  permit  himself  to  become  alienated  from  them 
either  by  their  disgusting  appearance  or  the  unkind  opinions 
of  adults,  until  the  storm  of  war  drove  him  away  and  des- 
troyed his  orphan-asylum.  He  now  became  school-master  in 
Burgdorf,  in  one  of  the  smallest  schools  for  teachers.  It  was 
here  that  he  brought  into  use  his  method  of  elementary  in- 
struction, which,  after  long  opposition  and  many  prejudices, 
now  obtained  the  first,  though  rather  qualified,  indorsement 
of  the  public-school  authorities. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century  Pestalozzis 
pedagogical  operations  first  began  to  arouse  great  attention. 
He  had  established  a  training  school  of  his  own  at  Burg- 
dorf.  His  Book  for  Mothers,  published  in  1803,  attracted 
notice;  it  became,  to  use  the  words  of  Kriisi,  his  scholar, 
the  corner-stone  of  his  new  method,  and  henceforward  there 
streamed  forth  men  from  a  distance  to  cooperate  in  the  Institute. 
Soon  the  praise  of  the  extraordinary  operations  there  drowned 
the  reproaches  of  enemies,  and  even  many  of  them  were  con- 
vinced of  their  error.  Pestalozzis  name  became  European, 
for  how  could  his  narrow  mother-country  longer  contain  his 


158 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


fame?  Immediately  the  Helvetic  government  declared  the  in- 
stitution at  Burgdorf  public,  and  belonging  to  the  nation, 
and  added  to  it  a  seminary  for  teachers.  But  the  con- 
dition of  things  was  soon  changed  by  the  Mediation.  The 
Helvetic  government  resigned,  the  Castle  in  Burgdorf  be- 
came the  seat  of  a  superintendent,  and  the  Institute  was 
removed  to  Yverdon. 

But  it  now  became  so  enlarged  that  it  acquired  a  European 
importance.  Germans,  French,  Italians,  Spaniards,  and  even 
Russians  and  North  Americans,  sent  pupils  thither.  A  multi- 
tude of  foreigners  went  hither  and  returned,  and  inquirers  came 
from  all  directions  to  study  the  method  of  Pestalozzi,  which, 
by  this  time,  had  become  a  subject  of  animated  public  dis- 
cussion. Pestalozzi  did  not  now  stand  any  more  alone ;  other 
teachers  came  to  him,  and,  committing  their  scientific  edu- 
cation to  his  hands,  overlaid  their  own  opinions  with  his. 
The  intimate  family  circle  enlarged  itself  into  a  small  state, 
in  which  there  were  warlike  expressions  and  much  friction. 
Disorder  gained  the  upper  hand,  and  the  work  so  increased 
upon  the  founder's  hands  that  he  seemed  about  to  fall  in  the 
midst  of  its  ruins.  We  will  not  follow  the  sad  picture  of  its 
dissolution  any  further,  for  it  still  stands  fresh  enough  in 
every  one's  mind;  nor  will  we  linger  even  at  those  dis- 
astrous and  wild  controversies  that  filled  our  public  journals 
before  the  more  serious  political  disorders  came  on.  Pesta- 
lozzi was  taken  away.  After  the  downfall  of  the  Institute, 
in  1825,  he  withdrew  to  Neuhof,  whence  his  work  had  set 
out  and  where,  in  the  house  of  his  grandson,  who  was  his 
only  descendant,  he  spent  the  remainder  of  his  days, 
dying  at  Brugg,  on  the  17th  of  February,  1827,  a  few 
years  before  the  outbreak  of  the  political  storm.  On  the 
19th  of  February  his  body  was  interred  at  Birr,  while  the 
ground  was  covered  with  snow,  the  burial  being  quiet  and 
unostentatious,  and  only  attended  by  the  simple  singing  of 
the  youthful  villagers. 

We  cannot  here  enter  upon  the  method  itself,  so  far  as 
it  aimed  at  the  universal  development  of  man;  for  this  was 
its  purpose,  quite  in  accordance  with  what  the  age  had  in 


PESTALOZZIS  PRINCIPLES  OP  EDUCATION.  159 

view  in  its  call  for  humanity.  The  most  of  us  are  intrusted 
with  the  chief  principles  of  Pestalozzis  method,  and  much 
that  owed  its  rise  to  him  has  already  passed  over  into  our 
schools  and  houses,  though  very  properly  under  many  limit- 
ations and  amplifications.  The  instruction  of  the  intuitions, 
in  opposition  to  a  dead  and  spirit-killing  mechanism,  and  the 
self-conscious  and  active  employment  of  the  simplest  elements 
of  our  thinking,  in  number,  word  and  form,  are  the  object 
kept  in  view  by  later  education.  And  though  a  new  mechan- 
ism has  often  been  planted  beside  the  old,  and  here  again 
the  letter  has  attempted  to  rise  above  the  spirit,  great  prog- 
ress has  nevertheless  taken  place  in  the  common- school 
education  of  Germany  and  Switzerland  during  the  last  decades, 
in  comparison  with  its  earlier  condition.  We  do  not  assert 
that  Pestalozzi  alone  brought  all  this  to  pass;  it  has  been 
justly  shown  already  that  the  most  of  what  he  consummated 
had  been  initiated  by  others,  not  only  by  Rousseau  and 
Basedow,  but  also  by  earlier  persons,  such  as  Comenius.  But 
it  has  also  been  as  justly  remembered,  that  what  Rousseau 
attempted  with  a  simulated  pupil,  has  been  realized,  though 
with  modifications,  by  Pestalozzi  upon  real  men,  and  that 
what  was  already  existing  in  scattered  ideas  was  collected 
by  him  into  a  focus. 

This  is  true  of  all  new  ideas.  It  could  be  said  even  of 
Christianity,  that  many  of  its  principles  and  moral  laws 
already  existed,  and  that  others  had  thought  of  a  refor- 
mation of  the  church  before  Luther's  time.  But  who  does  not 
recall  the  egg  of  Columbus?  The  secret  of  a  remarkable  deed 
in  connection  with  a  man  and  his  name  is,  that  where  others 
counsel,  think,  doubt,  desire,  hope  and  attempt,  another 
pierces  with  the  power  of  lightning;  and  that  which  is  only 
a  type,  shade,  and  mere  theory  to  some,  becomes  work  to 
another;  thought  is  clothed  with  words;  words  are  endued 
with  flesh  and  blood,  and  the  deed  is  brought  to  pass.  But 
here  we  should  praise  the  service  of  men  less  than  Providence, 
who,  when  the  time  is  fulfilled,  knows  well  how  to  send  the 
chosen  one  to  accomplish  the  work,  and  often  needs  the  single 
individual  as  his  instrument  only  for  a  season,  as  with 


160 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Pestalozzi,  and  then  lets  him  pass  away,  to  make  room  for 
others  to  complete  what  he  began. 

It  now  remains  for  us  to  notice  more  carefully  Pestalozzis 
relation  to  Christianity,  and  especially  to  its  Protestant  form. 
No  one  who  can  transport  himself  to  that  time  will  find  fault 
with  Pestalozzi  for  opposing,  like  Basedow,  Salzmann  and 
Campe  (whom  he  knew  nothing  of  when  he  commenced  his 
work  independently  of  them),  the  dullness  of  that  enjoined 
orthodoxy  which  considered  that  it  had  done  everything  when 
it  had  beaten  the  catechism  into  children,  and,  in  its  zeal, 
forgot  real  faith  and  true  love,  and  for  resisting  a  lazy 
Christianity  of  memory  and  forms,  or  a  "paper-science,"  as 
Pestalozzi  was  accustomed  to  call  it.  We  here  discover  the 
Protestant,  in  whom  the  essence  of  Christianity  takes  the 
place  of  the  form,  and  in  whom  the  spirit  preponderates  over 
the  letter.  But  it  is  a  further  question:  How  far  the  essence 
of  Christianity  was  clear  to  himself,  and  how  far  his  work 
proceeded  from  the  deep  spirit  of  Christianity? 

And  we  may  here  state  the  doubt,  whether  the  real  nature 
of  Christianity,  in  its  widest  signification,  was  clear  to  him, 
since  he  himself  made  this  confession,  in  1820:  "I  shall  re- 
main in  a  certain  kind  of  obscurity  concerning  the  most  of 
my  opinions  until  I  go  to  my  grave,  but  yet  it  is  a  holy 
darkness,  the  only  light  in  which  I  can  live."  Here  lies  the 
key  to  a  great  deal.  Christianity  also  remained  a  holy  dark- 
ness to  the  noble  mind  of  Pestalozzi,  but  yet  there  arose  in 
it  many  a  star,  which  revived  his  courage  in  his  rough  path. 
He  who  seeks  to  find  in  Pestalozzi  the  theological  dogmatist, 
who  knows  how  to  give  a  good  account  of  his  faith,  will 
search  in  vain.  Pestalozzi  is  distinguished  in  this  respect  from 
Basedow,  Campe  and  Salzmann,  because  he  did  not  attempt, 
as  they  did,  to  theologize  Christianity,  and  convert  it  into 
Rationalism.1    Since  he  connected  everything  directly  with 

1  "Faith,"  he  teaches,  "must  be  produced  by  faith,  and  not  by  the 
knowledge  and  understanding  of  doctrine;  love  must  be  produced  by 
love,  and  not  by  the  knowledge  of  love  and  of  the  lovely;  and  art  must 
come  from  knowledge,  and  not  from  the  manifold  reports  of  knowledge 
and  art."  Blochmann,  Heinrich  Pestalozzi,  etc.,  p.  126. 


PESTALOZZI  S  VIEWS  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  1G1 

life,  Christianity  had  but  little  interest  to  him;  and  the  preva- 
lent Rationalism  was  as  unable  as  orthodoxy  to  satisfy 
him.  In  religion,  he  was  a  man  of  feeling  and  a  child  of 
promptings.  The  religious  feeling  seemed  rather  to  come 
over  him  in  moments  of  enthusiasm  than  to  be  a  theme  of 
quiet  reflection  and  a  principle  controlling  his  whole  life. 
Hence  he  never  produced  such  a  religious  effect  as  when,  in 
his  elevated  seasons,  he  prayed  aloud  in  his  circle  of  teachers 
and  scholars,  or  even  late  at  night  in  his  bed-chamber;  and 
even  those  who  doubted  his  Christianity  must  confess  that 
he  could  pray  impressively.1  And  when,  as  was  reported, 
the  devotional  exercises  of  the  Institute  became  less  earnest, 
and  were  confined  to  moralizing,  Pestalozzi  disapproved  of  it; 
he  complained  that  the  Bible  was  too  little  read,  and  exulted 
that  it  had  been  different  in  his  earlier  life.  But  notwith- 
standing this,  we  are  assured  by  the  official  report  of  a  com- 
mittee appointed  by  the  Diet  in  1810,  that  actual  instruction 
in  Christianity  was  first  imparted  to  those  to  be  confirmed 
after  a  course  in  natural  religion,  and  only  at  the  expressed 
desire  of  parents.  Thus  Christianity  was  placed  outside  the 
Institute,  and  not  within  it  as  a  light  to  shine  upon  all 
within  the  house. 

But  we  should  not  forget  that,  Christianity  being  in  such 
a  crisis,  it  was  not  easy  for  the  individual  to  find  out  where 
he  was,  amid  this  whirl  of  opinions.  Pestalozzi  expressed 
himself  on  Christianity  very  variously.  At  one  time  he  said: 
"I  hold  Christianity  to  be  nothing  else  than  the  purest  and 
noblest  modification  of  the  doctrine  of  the  elevation  of  the 
spirit  over  the  flesh,  and  the  great  mystery  and  only  possible 
means  of  raising  our  inmost  nature  to  its  true  dignity;  or, 
to  use  plainer  language,  to  establish  the  dominion  of  reason 
over  sensuousness  by  the  inner  development  of  the  purest 
feelings  of  love.  This,  I  believe,  is  the  essence  of  Christianity, 
but  I  do  not  think  that  there  are  many  men  naturally  fitted 
to  be  Christians," — and  he  takes  this  occasion  to  confess  the 
fact,  that  he  is  not  really  a  Christian,  because  he  does  not 

1  Comp.  Burkliardt,  War  Heinrich  Pestalozzi  ein  Ungläubigerl  p.  18. 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


find  himself  endowed  with  a  capacity  to  arrive  at  religious 
excellence  by  the  conquest  of  himself.  But,  at  another  time, 
he  recognizes  Christ  as  the  only  High  Priest,  who  has  taught 
us  to  pray  to  God  in  spirit  and  in  truth;  indeed,  he  even 
speaks  of  praying  to  Christ  as  a  prerequisite  to  following  him, 
and  longs  for  a  return,  for  himself  and  mankind,  of  those 
delightful  days  when  there  was  joy  over  the  Savior  and  his 
birth.  In  his  Report  to  the  Public,  in  1820,  he  says:  "I 
hold,  that  to  know  the  Biblical  history,  and  particularly  the 
life,  sufferings  and  death  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  then  to  learn 
the  most  inspiring  passages  of  the  Bible  in  a  childlike  manner, 
are  the  necessary  beginning  and  essence  in  religious  instruc- 
tion; and  there  must  be  specially  united  therewith  a  paternal 
care  to  make  children  deeply  sensible  of  the  great  value  of 
praying  in  faith." 

The  remarks  of  Pestalozzi  to  his  family  in  1818  prove  how 
firmly  he  believed,  in  his  later  years,  that  the  salvation  of 
the  world  and  of  his  own  family  could  be  expected  only 
through  Christ.  And  herein  lies  the  essential  element  of 
Christian  faith,  notwithstanding  all  its  different  interpretations. 
After  the  old  man,  who  had  now  reached  his  seventy-third 
year,  had  made  a  general  confession,  and  had  appealed  to  all 
hearts  in  behalf  of  his  declining  institution,  he  closed  with 
these  words:  "Love  one  another  as  Jesus  Christ  hath  loved 
us.  '  Charity  suffereth  long  and  is  kind;  charity  envieth  not; 
charity  vaunteth  not  itself,  is  not  puffed  up,  doth  not  behave 
itself  unseemly,  seeketh  not  her  own,  is  not  easily  provoked, 
thinketh  no  evil;  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  but  rejoiceth  in 
the  truth;  beareth  all  things,  believeth  all  things,  hopeth  all 
things,  endureth  all  things.'  Friends!  Brethren!  'Bless  them 
that  curse  you,  do  good  to  them  that  hate  you;'  heap  coals 
of  fire  on  the  heads  of  your  enemies;  4 let  not  the  sun  go 
down  upon  your  wrath;'  when  you  bring  your  gift  to  the 
altar,  'first  be  reconciled  to  thy  brother,  and  then  come  and 
offer  thy  gift.'  Let  all  relentless  harshness  be  far  from  our 
house.  Let  it  not  be  entertained  toward  one  who  is  unjust 
to  us.  Let  all  human  severity  be  destroyed  by  the  mildness 
of  our  faith.    It  must  lose  itself  in  the  mildness  of  Christian 


PESTALOZZIS  APPEAL  TO  HIS  FRIENDS.  163 

faith.  Let  no  one  of  you  excuse  his  unkindness  toward  one 
who  has  been  sinful  and  unjust.  Let  no  one  say,  that  Jesus 
Christ  has  not  loved  the  sinner.  He  has  loved  him.  He  has 
loved  him  with  divine  love.  He  has  died  for  him.  He  did 
not  die  to  call  the  righteous,  but  sinners  to  repentance.  He 
did  not  find  the  sinner  faithful,  but  made  him  faithful  by  his 
own  faith.  He  did  not  find  him  humble,  but  made  him 
humble  by  his  own  humility.  Truly,  it  was  by  the  lofty, 
divine  service  of  his  humility  that  he  conquered  the  pride  ot 
the  sinner,  and  chained  him  by  faith  to  the  divine  heart  of 
his  love.  Friends!  Brethren!  If  we  do  this;  if  we  love  one 
another  as  Jesus  Christ  hath  loved  us,  we  shall  overcome 
every  obstacle  to  the  great  end  of  our  lives,  and  be  able  to 
establish  the  welfare  of  our  house  on  the  eternal  rock  on 
which  God  himself,  through  Jesus  Christ,  has  founded  the 
prosperity  of  the  human  family."1 


*  Werke,  Vol.  IX.  p.  298. 


LECTURE  IX. 

INFLUENCE  OF  PESTALOZZIANISM  ON  RELIGIOUS  THOUGHT. — 
THE  TASK  OF  THE  CHURCH  IN  RELATION  TO  THE  GREAT 
CHANGES  OF  THE  TIMES.  —  HAMANN  AND  CLAUDIUS  AS 
SPIRITED  DEFENDERS  OF  THE  OLD  ORTHODOXY.  —  HAMANN: 
SCENES  FROM  HIS  LIFE,  AND   EXTRACTS  FROM  HIS  WORKS. 

Having  attempted  in  the  last  lecture  to  portray  Pestalozzi 
chiefly  in  his  relation  to  religion,  we  are  now  required  to 
answer  the  inquiry:  How  far  did  his  labors  influence  the  tone 
and  tendency  of  his  times?  At  first  glance,  this  influence 
does  not  seem  to  have  been  very  great,  if  we  only  consider 
the  strict  form  of  the  Pestalozzian  method,  which  was  attended 
with  as  much  opposition  from  one  quarter  as  with  favor  from 
another.  The  opposition  did  not  come  alone  from  the  orthodox 
and  the  adherents  of  the  old  faith,  but  from  men  who,  like 
Niemeyer,  espoused  the  new  rationalistic  tendencies,  and  felt 
it  their  duty  to  guard  others  against  the  disadvantages  and 
one-sided  application  of  the  method,  while  they  dealt  strict 
justice  to  Pestalozzi  as  a  man.  We  would  not  decide  our 
question  by  the  number  of  those  who  espoused  his  method, 
for  we  believe  that  his  real  influence  was  much  greater  than 
that  exercised  simply  by  it. 

It  is  somewhat  with  Pestalozzi  as  with  Kant  and  his  philos- 
ophy. There  were  comparatively  few  strict  Kantians  who 
adhered  to  his  system  in  every  particular;  and  yet,  as  we 
have  seen,  it  exerted  a  wonderful  influence  upon  the  age,  so 
that  many  thought  in  a  Kantian  manner  without  either  know- 
ing or  desiring  it.    It  seems  as  if  certain  ideas,  once  set  in 


INCREASED  INTEREST  IN  EDUCATION. 


165 


motion,  dwell  in  the  air  and  communicate  themselves  to  man- 
kind. This  was  the  case  with  Pestalozzi.  Though  the  attempt . 
was  made  during  his  lifetime  to  deprive  him  of  his  power, 
and  there  was  much  dispute  about  the  meaning  and  expedi- 
ency of  his  method,  a  permanent  impulse  was  given  to  pop- 
ular instruction;  and  the  general  interest  in  education  which 
had  sprung  up  since  Rousseau  and  Basedow  took  a  wider 
form  and  increased  in  all  classes.  The  most  significant  fact 
in  connection  with  Pestalozzis  labors  is  a  marked  character- 
istic of  the  times;  namely,  an  increased  interest  in  pedagogic 
life  and  labors,  which  was  considered  a  political  and  artistic 
step,  a  greater  respect  for  childhood  and  school-children,  and 
more  attention  bestowed  upon  them.  As  already  observed, 
education  had  hitherto  been  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  church. 
But  after  Pestalozzi  published  his  Book  for  Mothers,  no 
mother  was  willing  to  remain  behind  the  demands  of  the 
times;  and  as  the  independence  of  domestic  training  con- 
tinued to  increase,  the  same  method  applied  to  public  in- 
struction, a  step  which  caused  collision  with  the  church. 
Ecclesiastical  training  was  charged  with  being  contracted  and 
gloomy;  but  now  the  spacious,  pleasant  school-rooms  must 
form  a  contrast  with  the  Gothic  twilight  of  the  church  which, 
like  other  mysterious  things  of  the  times,  had  become  incom- 
prehensible, and  therefore  uncomfortable.  These  improvers 
of  the  world  loudly  boasted  that  the  salvation  of  future 
generations  would  radiate  from  the  schools.  It  was  hoped 
that  the  old  church  would  die  simultaneously  with  the  old 
people  and  the  old  pastors. 

It  can  be  easily  seen  that  a  change  had  come,  not  only 
upon  the  method,  but  upon  the  whole  view  of  the  nature  and 
life  of  childhood  and  youth,  and  also  upon  the  conception  of 
the  nature  of  man  and  its  possible  development.  In  the  former 
period  little  was  said  of  hopes  placed  in  the  future  improvement 
of  mankind.  On  the  contrary,  there  was  loud  complaint  that 
the  times  would  always  be  growing  worse.  "Youth  has  no 
virtue,"  and  similar  proverbs  were  heard.  The  great  service 
of  education  was  made  to  consist  in  making  children  pre- 
maturely old  and  "grave,"  and  in  breaking  their  will  betimes. 


166 


HISTORY  OF   THE  CHURCH. 


In  every  youthful  mischief,  and  frequently  in  lively  impulses, 
attempts  were  made  to  trace  original  sin,  which  could  not 
be  destroyed  too  speedily  and  radically.  It  was  thought  that 
true  wisdom  dwelt  only  in  those  old  fathers  who,  amid  severe 
chastisements,  had  grown  gray  in  the  service  of  God.  But 
how  often  were  old  customs  mistaken  for  real  holiness! 

How  changed  the  scene !  Every  thing  old  went  out  of  date, 
and  while  children  in  former  days  had  been  turned  into  old 
men,  old  men  now  came  back  again  to  childhood.  How 
vitally  and  openly  did  this  rejuvenation  occur  in  Pestalozzi 
himself!  In  this  desire  for  youth  there  is  something  beautiful 
and  quickening,  and  it  is  supported  by  a  powerful  utterance  of 
Christ:  "  Except  ye  be  converted,  and  become  as  little  children, 
ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  This  truth 
had  either  been  unheard  in  the  good  old  times,  or  people 
would  not  lay  it  to  heart,  fearing  lest  the  doctrine  of  original 
sin  and  human  depravity  would  disappear.  But  here,  as  ever, 
it  was  very  easy  to  go  from  one  extreme  to  the  other.  A 
false  value  was  soon  placed  on  what  was  called  the  youthful 
sense ;  even  the  bad  manners  of  children  were  deemed  lovely ; 
and  what  were  once  considered  the  evidences  of  original  sin 
were  now  regarded  the  exuberant  growth  of  early  genius. 
The  insolent  and  unbridled  behavior  which  appeared  in  the 
Pestalozzian  institutions  with  increasing  extravagance,  was 
esteemed  the  vigorous  development  of  a  youthful  love  of  free- 
dom; and  the  "freedom  and  equality"  of  which  so  much  was 
heard  in  the  great  outside  world,  were  imitated  in  school  and 
at  home.  Children  were  fondled,  and  told  to  their  face  that 
they  were  smarter  than  old  people,  who  had  become  stupid 
and  mechanical;  they  were  tickled  and  incited  to  criticize; 
they  were  taught  to  discuss  instead  of  obey. 

All  this  had  its  influence  upon  the  religious  instruction 
imparted  by  the  church.  The  Lutheran  Catechism,  which  had 
been  recommended  by  Herder,  and  the  Heidelberg  Catechism 
in  Reformed  countries,  had  once  furnished  nearly  all  the  so- 
called  "milk-food  of  youth;"  but  these  old  catechisms  now 
vanished,  and  in  their  place  came  the  new  ones,  which  were 
soon  found  to  be  much  more  tedious  and  impracticable  than 


JUVENILE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  PERIOD.  167 

their  predecessors  had  been.  From  the  days  of  Salzmann 
and  Campe  the  literary  market  had  been  flooded  with  juvenile 
publications,  so  that,  as  Lichtenberg  wittily  says,  men  were 
forgotten  in  the  excessive  attention  to  children.1 

In  the  most  of  these  juvenile  works  great  stress  was  laid 
upon  either  sentimentality  or  the  morality  of  utility.  The 
magnificent  Biblical  narratives  were  left  in  the  background 
by  the  light  ware  of  fabricated  stories,  such  as  have  teemed 
forth  by  the  thousand  down  to  our  day,  and  in  which  there 
is  but  little  that  is  really  child-like  and  of  a  pure  tone. 
Indeed  Campe  sometimes  stops  in  his  Robinson,  even  in  the 
best  parts  of  the  story,  to  delay  his  young  readers  with  those 
moral  conversations  which  the  shrewdest  of  the  number  pass 
over.2  Instead  of  the  precocious  orthodoxy  desired  in  the 
youth  of  earlier  days,  there  now  sprang  up  a  still  more 
precocious  moralism  and  Rationalism,  which  were  much  less 
adapted  to  the  youthful  disposition,  and  far  more  injurious, 
than  the  old  religion  inculcated  by  the  catechism. 

What  did  the  church  do  in  the  meantime?  There  were 
some  within  its  fold  who  endeavored  to  accommodate  them- 
selves to  the  period,  but  not  always  with  success.  Before 
the  time  of  Pestalozzi,  or  at  any  rate  independently  of  him, 
the  attempt  had  been  made  to  instruct  children  according 
to  the  Kantian  principles,  which  proposed  that  distinct 
ideas  be  awakened  in  a  child  by  questions  and  answers.  It 
was  a  logical  playing  with  questions,3  a  method  which  not 

1  See  Gervinus,  Vol.  V.  p.  351.  Yet  the  opinion  which  this  author 
passes  upon  the  juvenile  literature  of  our  most  recent  times  is  clearly- 
bitter  and  unjust,  when  he  speaks  of  the  unproductive  scribblers  who 
"lay  their  Easter-eggs  and  ornament  their  Christmas-trees  every  year." 
The  worthy  writer  of  children's  books  here  attacked  (a  Roman  Catholic 
priest)  has  already  received  the  thanks  of  many  parents,  and  Protestants 
among  the  number. 

2  Ibid. 

3  From  Gräffe's  Katechetih  (1797),  Yol.  I.  p.  208,  we  may  derive  an 
example  of  how  a  child's  mind  was  approached,  to  prepare  it  for  com- 
prehending religious  ideas.  "Suppose,"  says  the  author,  "that  I  wish 
to  make  a  child  acquainted  with  the  idea  of  memory;  I  must  first  call 
attention  to  many  things  on  which  this  idea  is  based:   What  was  the 


1G8 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


only  conferred  no  benefit  upon  the  heart  but  was  of  an 
equal  disadvantage  to  the  head,  for  it  was  to  the  head 
that  everything  was  directed.  It  was  also  attempted,  in  con- 
nection with  the  Biblical  narratives,  to  deprive  children 
of  the  charm  of  the  miraculous,  and  to  substitute  moral  dis- 
courses, which  were  designed  to  make  an  immediate  impres- 
sion. This  proved  an  injury  to  the  church.  On  the  other 
hand,  by  virtue  of  the  new  impulse  given  to  popular  instruc- 
tion in  Germany  and  Switzerland,  the  demand  was  made  upon 
the  church  to  appropriate  whatever  was  useful  in  these  efforts, 
and  the  preacher  was  compelled  to  come  out  of  the  old  path, 
and  bethink  himself  of  means  for  quickening  and  invigorating 
the  religious  instruction  of  youth. 

Taking  a  retrospective  glance  over  our  field,  still  regarding 
our  subject  independently  of  all  the  contemporaneous  political 
movements,  we  shall  perceive  that  the  new  view  taken  of  the 
world,  in  antagonism  to  the  former,  possesses  three  distinct 
phases:  that  of  philosophy  by  Kant;  that  of  art  and  belles- 
lettres,  and  especially  of  the  stage,  by  Schiller  and  Goethe; 
and,  finally,  that  of  education  by  the  philanthropists,  and,  in 
higher  potency,  by  Pestalozzi.  And  by  each  of  these  agencies 

name  of  that  ungrateful  son  who  tried  to  dethrone  his  father  ?  Absalom.  How 
long  ago  did  I  relate  his  history?  Two  weeks.  "What  did  I  tell  you  then 
about  Absalom  ?  That  he  hung  under  an  oak,  and  was  stabbed  by  Joab.  Who 
told  you  this  history?  You.  When  one  thus  relates  anything  to  you,  can  you 
remember  it?  What  do  you  now  remember;  what  can  you  remember?  Every 
thing  which  you  tell  me.  "When  one  tells  something  to  very  old  people, 
what  is  it  that  they  cannot  remember  long  at  a  time?  What  was  told  to 
them.  What  takes  place,  therefore,  with  very  old  people?  They  forget 
easily.  But  when  I  tell  you  to  come  and  see  me  the  day  after  to-morrow, 
you  will  surely  not  forget  it?  But  you  will  remember  it?  When  some  one 
tells  you  anything,  what  can  your  soul  do?  Remember  it.  How  long 
will  you  remember  what  you  have  told  me?  Oh,  as  long  as  I  live. 
What  will  you  still  know  after  many  years?  That  I  have  talked  with 
you.  How  long,  therefore,  can  you  remember  something  so  as  not  to 
forget  it?  Many  years,  etc."  Such  folly  men  were  not  ashamed  to  term 
Socratic!  Equally  remarkable  with  the  foregoing  is  the  .circuitous  route 
through  all  lands,  and  seas,  and  finally  among  all  the  stars,  by  which 
the  author  would  lead  the  heart  of  the  child  to  the  destined  point: 
admiration  of  divine  omnipotence. 


EMBARRASSMENT  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


1G9 


the  church  was  threatened  with  the  loss  of  its  hereditary 
possessions.  While  the  Kantians  seriously  attempted  to  sub- 
stitute the  pure  ethics  of  the  Categorical  Imperative  for  the 
old  doctrines  of  the  church,  Schiller,  with  equal  seriousness, 
recommended  the  theater  as  the  civil  school  of  moral  cult- 
ure ;  and  the  friends  of  the  new  educational  system,  in  their 
desire  to  advance  humanity,  felt  it  their  bounden  duty  to  prefer 
an  enlightened  class  of  teachers  to  the  despised  priestly  caste. 
What,  then,  was  the  position  and  task  of  the  church?  Was 
it  able,  or  did  it  dare,  to  resist  the  pressure  of  these  new 
elements  of  culture,  these  demands  of  the  age?  Must  it  de- 
clare war  against  the  new  philosophy,  the  new  literature  and 
art,  and  the  new  educational  method?  Or  would  it  turn  its 
back  contemptuously  upon  them?  Should  it  hurl  anathemas 
against  them,  or  prefer  the  fate  of  martyrdom?  Or  should  it 
finally  capitulate,  and  part  with  a  piece  here  and  another 
there,  allowing  the  new  to  displace  the  old? 

The  church  did  not  strictly  adopt  any  one  of  these  courses, 
so  great  was  the  temptation  at  that  time  to  attempt  first  one  and 
then  another  means  of  escape.  It  could  not  condemn  them 
with  a  good  conscience,  because  it  was  compelled  to  acknowl- 
edge that,  in  spite  of  all  the  non-ecclesiastical  and  unchristian 
tendencies  which  were  mixed  together  in  each  of  these  de- 
partments, there  was  something  in  the  affair  besides  human 
authority  and  caprice,  because  it  could  not  ward  off  the  con- 
viction that  a  Higher  Hand  was  operating  in  the  movement. 
If  the  church  would  only  listen,  she  could  not  fail  to  hear  the 
flapping  of  the  wings  of  that  genius  which  was  approaching 
with  great  power;  and  while  she  would  not  greet  it  as  an 
angel  extending  the  olive-branch  of  peace,  she  dared  not  call 
it  a  demon  of  hell,  bringing  destruction  to  man.  To  conclude 
that  it  combined  the  double  character  of  angel  and  demon, 
was  still  less  advisable.  She  did  attempt  this  method  in  some 
cases,  but  it  was  always  through  fire,  and  with  considerable 
loss.  Should  she  permit  the  philosophical  cathedra  to  take 
the  place  of  the  pulpit,  the  stage  to  become  a  substitute 
for  the  altar,  or  herself  to  be  converted  into  a  school-room? 
Should  a  human  system  supplant  God's  Word,  which  had  been 


170 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


committed  to  her  for  promulgation;  or  should  she  compro- 
mise with  secular  poetry,  and  thus  flatter  the  people  with  a 
view  to  restore  the  neglected  public  services ;  or,  finally,  should 
she  dispense  with  the  school  and  the  instruction  of  children, 
because  the  end  of  Christian  training  seemed  to  be  approach- 
ing? She  could  not  do  this,  for  she  still  desired  to  occupy 
her  appointed  position  as  the  stewardess  of  the  divine  mysteries. 
But  what  could  she  do?  "To  everything  there  is  a  season," 
says  the  Preacher.  .  .  .  "A  time  to  break  down,  and  a 
time  to  build  up."  The  time  for  building  up  had  not  yet 
come;  it  would  be  well  if,  instead  of  a  final  fall,  enough 
of  the  old  material  could  be  preserved  for  the  time  of  re- 
building. It  was  necessary  to  examine  well  the  new  materials, 
and  retain  only  the  good  among  the  old. 

This  was  the  task  before  the  Protestant  church.  Her  aim, 
amid  the  whirl  of  opinions  and  efforts,  had  to  be  the  search 
for  what  was  good  and  enduring,  and  to  lead  it  back  again  to  the 
Christian  basis  from  which  it  had  been  alienated.  Were  philos- 
ophy, literature,  art  and  education  new  to  her?  Must  she 
not  remember  that  she  had  scattered  the  seeds  whence  these 
plants  had  grown?  In  the  Middle  Ages,  philosophy  had  ap- 
plied itself  to  theology  and  art,  to  Christian  worship,  while 
the  school-system  of  the  Germans  was  a  development  of  the 
instruction  which  the  church  imparted.  And  even  at  the  time 
of  the  Reformation,  the  new  activity  of  mind  and  intellectual 
life  had  sprung  largely  from  her.  The  new  plants  now  grew 
upon  a  soil  beyond  her  sphere,  but  she  dared  not  refuse  to 
tread  upon  that  soil,  and  to  wrest  from  its  invaders  the 
part  which  she  had  once  possessed,  and  plant  upon  it  such 
scions  as  best  suited  her  convictions.  Availing  herself  of  the 
new  elements  of  culture,  she  must  labor  there,  by  means  of 
a  Christian  philosophy,  a  better  one  than  the  old  scholastic 
system  had  been,  to  overcome  gradually  the  partisan  criticism; 
in  a  new  sense  to  supplant  the  doomed  paganism  by  means 
of  a  Christian  art;  and,  by  employing  a  Christian  mode  of 
training,  though  not  the  old  pedantic  French  system,  but  the 
elevated  Pestalozzian  method,  to  displace  the  one-sided 
philanthropism.   In  a  word,  the  heart  of  the  church  did  not 


FAITH,  THE  VITAL  POWER  OF  THE  CHURCH.  171 

dare  to  allow  itself  to  be  suffocated  by  the  philosophic,  artistic, 
and  pedagogic  forces;  on  the  contrary,  it  was  all  the  more 
necessary  for  it  to  enlarge  itself,  so  as  to  inhale  a  new 
atmosphere,  and,  in  turn,  to  breathe  forth  new  life  upon  those 
around.  Yet  in  order  to  do  this,  there  had  to  be  vital  power 
and  vigor  enough  in  her  to  appropriate  the  new  elements 
and  reject  the  extraneous, — in  fact,  to  be  permeated  by  the 
crisis  before  her. 

But  the  vital  power  of  the  church,  without  which  she  can- 
not exist,  is  the  force  of  faith,  yet  not  that  faith  which  de- 
pends on  certain  forms  and  signs,  on  letters  and  prescribed 
notions  and  conceptions,  and  therefore  must  stand  or  fall  with 
them;  but  a  faith  which  is  conscious  of  an  inner  life  work- 
ing outwardly,  which  can  say,  amid  surrounding  desolations, 
and  the  doubts,  vacillations  and  discouragements  of.  the 
world:  "I  am  sure  that  my  cause  will  triumph."  When  the 
church  possesses  this  faith  in  any  form  or  at  any  time,  though 
it  be  no  greater  than  a  mustard-seed,  there  need  be  no  de- 
spondency in  the  midst  of  the  most  violent  storms.  Christ  is 
in  the  vessel,  though  apparently  asleep.  The  shrivelled  grain 
will  strike  root  when  men  least  expect  it.  This  is  confirmed 
by  the  most  recent  history  of  the  church.  When  we  inquire 
after  this  faith  it  would  appear  that  it  had  become  extinct, 
if  we  rely  for  an  answer  upon  certain  individuals  of  the  time. 
But  such  was  by  no  means  the  case.  I  will  not  consider 
again  those  who  were  deemed  by  some  the  champions  of 
skepticism,  though  they  inclined  to  Christian  faith,  and 
cherished  the  principles  of  Christianity;  neither  will  I  again 
treat  of  the  supernaturalist  theologians,  whose  faith  consisted 
more  in  the  understanding  and  in  the  system  than  in  the 
very  heart  of  their  spiritual  nature.1  I  will  confess,  however, 
that  altogether  different  forces  were  demanded,  and  that,  in 

1  Palmer,  in  his  Homiletik  (p.  37),  very  appropriately  refers  to  this 
formal  Supernaturalism  when  he  says,  that  it  was  so  far  opposed  to 
Rationalism  that  it  conld  choose  for  its  motto  that  passage  in  WiUielm 
Tell,  when  one  on  the  Rutli  says:  "I  know  him  well;  he  is  my  conter- 
part  who  disputes  with  me  for  my  old  heritage.  Sir  Reding,  before  the 
court  we  are  foes,  but  here  we  are  friends!" 

Vol.  TL— 12 


172 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


opposition  to  the  extreme  tendencies  then  prevalent,  it  would 
have  been  no  disadvantage  if  faith  had  taken  a  certain  ex- 
treme course,  and  become  felt  in  its  reaction,  just  as  Mysticism 
and  Pietism  once  constituted  a  counterpoise  to  the  scholastic 
philosophy. 

Let  us  now  ask,  in  view  of  the  disorganizing  and  trans- 
forming tendency  already  described:  How  was  it  with  that 
tendency  which  affiliated  with  the  old  faith?  Did  it  have  no 
more  champions?  Let  us  look  first  of  all  at  the  Pietists. 
There  were  not  a  few  of  them,  but  they  were  no  longer  a 
power  in  the  church,  as  in  the  former  half  of  the  century, 
when  Pietism  prevailed  among  cultivated  circles.  The  halcyon 
day  of  Pietism  was  passed;  for  even  here  the  modern  culture 
had  dislodged  many  a  quiet  virtue  at  the  same  time  that  it 
overcame  much  error.  Very  little  was  now  said  about  the 
Inspired,  who  flourished  about  the  middle  of  the  century  in 
Büdingen  and  other  places.  A  few  still  existed  here  and 
there,  but  they  were  not  respected  any  longer.1  On  the  other 
hand,  the  Moravian  Brethren,  with  their  several  ramifications, 
stood  securely  as  the  witnesses  of  a  sentiment  still  existing, 
which  increasingly  appeared  to  the  world  to  be  only  scandal 
and  folly.  Also  the  German  Christian  Society  and  similar 
institutions  worked  on  in  their  way.  But  what  would  these 
quiet  believers  in  the  land  accomplish  against  the  ever-rising 
voice  of  the  multitude?  If  they  would  not  be  caught  in  the 
swift  wheel  of  the  new  movement,  they  must  stand  at  a  dis- 
tance, and  confine  themselves  to  their  secluded  circle.  A 
certain  spirit  of  shyness  and  anxiety  overcame  such  people 
too  easily;  and  while  they  complained  and  condemned,  in 
their  retirement,  they  were  laughed  at  and  derided  more 
violently. 

We  will  now  speak  of  a  reaction  at  hand  in  which  there 
were  defenders  of  decided,  positive  Christianity,  who,  as 
writers  entered  the  domain  of  literature;  who,  as  thoughtful, 
keen  and  clever  thinkers,  knew  how  to  measure  their  strength 
with  others,  and  to  acquire  weight  in  the  judgment  of  those 

1  Concerning  Nielsen  Hauge  in  Norway,  see  Lecture  XIX. 


DIVERSE  OPINIONS  ON  HAMANN. 


173 


who  held  opposite  opinions.  But,  in  fact,  their  number  was 
small  compared  with  the  mass  of  their  adversaries.  In  previ- 
ous lectures  we  have  spoken  of  Stilling  and  Lavater,  both 
of  whom  stood  in  intimate  relations  with  Goethe,  and  had 
already  become  important  in  the  literary  heavens  as  satellites 
of  that  great  planet.1  It  is  sufficient  here  merely  to  recall 
them,  an  account  of  their  far-spread  united  influence.  We 
cannot  unconditionally  number  Herder  in  this  group  of 
writers ;  because,  while  one  side  of  his  character  harmonized 
with  them,  the  other  sympathized  with  the  tendency  toward 
illuminism;  for  he  knew  how  to  keep  above  antagonism,  by 
virtue  of  the  versatility  and  strength  of  his  mind.  But  whom 
can  we  listen  to  with  more  propriety  than  John  George 
Hamann,  the  "Magus  of  the  North,"  as  his  friends  used  to 
call  him. 

Hamann  belongs  to  those  phenomena  on  which  it  is  difficult 
to  pronounce  an  opinion  fully  impartial  and  satisfactory.  Just 
because  he  stands  precipitous  and  solitary  in  his  times,  as  a 
rock-island  amid  surging  breakers,  we  cannot  decide  on  him, 
as  on  many  other  men,  by  passing  a  general  opinion  on  his 
times.  Moreover,  he  placed  himself  in  many  respects  in 
antagonism  to  his  times;  and  therefore  he  necessarily  appears 
to  the  enthusiastic  admirers  of  those  days  as  an  odd  fellow, 
if  not  almost  or  quite  a  fool;  while,  on  the  other  hand, 
those  who  reproach  that  age  revere  him  as  a  saint,  a  prophet, 
a  preacher  sent  by  God  into  the  wilderness.  Since  we 
neither  praise  nor  censure  his  times  without  qualification,  we 
do  not  find  in  Hamann  everything  to  laud  nor  everything  to 
censure.  He  appears  to  us  to  be  a  remarkably  original, 
vigorous  and  penetrating  mind;  and  we  will  not  be  persuaded 
that  the  obscurities  and  distortions  in  his  works  are  all  the 
greater  mysteries,  behind  which  God  conceals  vast  depths  of 
knowledge,  and  that  the  tasteless  shell  must  necessarily  con- 
tain a  kernel  all  the  sweeter,  simply  because  we  cannot  under- 
stand them.  However,  we  will  now  draw  a  picture  of  the 
man,  by  the  aid  of  his  own  confessions  and  writings. 


*  Vol.  I.  p.  483  ff. 


174 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


John  George  Hamann1  was  born  at  Königsberg  on  the 
27th  of  August,  1730.  Under  the  care  of  pious  parents  he 
received  a  common-school  education;  he  was  also  instructed 
by  private  tutors,  and  advanced  especially  in  the  study  of  the 
ancient  classics.  According  to  his  own  account,  "  some  of  the 
most  prominent  and  difficult  Latin  and  Greek  authors  were 
read  over  and  over  again."  Yet  Hamann  does  not  extol  the 
efforts  of  this  philological  training.  "I  could,"  says  he, 
"translate  a  Latin  author  into  German  without  understanding 
the  language,  or  even  the  thought  of  the  writer.  My  Latin 
and  Greek  compositions  were  mere  printer's  labor,  and  jug- 
glery, by  which  the  memory  was  glutted  and  the  remaining 
intellectual  faculties  starved,  because  there  was  a  deficiency 
of  healthy  and  appropriate  nutriment."  We  therefore  perceive 
that,  while  he  did  not  otherwise  harmonize  with  the  philan- 
thropists, he  yet  sympathized  with  them  in  their  opposition 
to  the  old  school  method,  a  proof  that  this  opposition  was 
severely  felt  in  all  quarters.  When  he  was  eighteen  years  of 
age  he  attended  the  University  of  his  native  city.  It  was 
intended  that  he  should  become  a  theologian;  "but"  said  he, 
"  I  found  an  obstacle  in  my  (unwieldy)  tongue,  poor  memory, 
and  many  imaginary  impediments  in  my  thinking,  the  low 
morals  of  the  clergy,  and  the  importance  which  I  attached 
to  the  duties  of  the  ministerial  office."  He  soon  gave  up 
jurisprudence  also,  and  dedicated  himself  solely  to  the  study 
of  antiquity  and  belles-lettres.  After  the  completion  of  his 
academic  course  he  became  tutor  in  Livonia,  a  position  to 
which  he  was  poorly  adapted;  and  he  was  very  roughly 
dismissed  by  the  gracious  mother.  He  then  spent  some  time 
in  Riga,  as  he  says,  "between  disorderly  industry  and  idle- 
ness." After  making  one  more  vain  attempt  as  tutor,  he  here 

1  Compare  Herbst,  Bibliothek  christlicher  Denker,  Vol.  I.  p.  13  if.; 
Hamann's  Schriften  (published  by  Roth),  Vol.  I,  p.  1  ff.;  Gedanken  über 
meinen  Lebenslauf,  Vol.  I.  p.  149,  and  the  letters  in  several  volumes; 
Sibyll.  Blatter  (pub.  by  Cramer),  p.  1  ff.  (Leipzig,  1819);  Gelzer,  Yorl, 
p.  40;  Gervinus,  Vol. IV.  p.  398;  Vilmar,  Nationallitteratur,Vo\.lL  p.l02ff.; 
Carvacchi,  Biographische  Erinnerungen  an  J.  O.  Hamann,  den  Magus  des 
Kordens  (Münster,  1855);  Lange,  article  Hamann,  in  Herzog's  Beal-Encyklop. 


hamann's  attraction  to  the  bible.  175 

acquired  some  noble  friends,  among  whom  were  the  mercantile 
house  of  Berens,  and  Dr.  Lindner,  Rector  in  Riga.  "Dis- 
gusted with  the  school-dust,"  he  was  induced  to  study  com- 
mercial science  and  political  economy,  which,  however,  en- 
gaged his  attention  but  a  short  time. 

After  his  mother's  death  Hamann  commenced  to  travel,  and 
at  Berlin  made  the  acquaintance  of  Moses  Mendelssohn.  He 
then  tried  his  fortune  in  London.  Here  he  threw  himself 
into  the  tumult  of  a  dissolute  life.1  Burdened  with  inner 
misery,  he  wandered  about  for  a  long  time  without  finding 
any  one  to  whom  he  could  open  his  heart.  In  his  agony 
he  sought  refuge  in  prayer;  he  implored  God  to  show 
him  a  friend;  this  friend  he  found  in  the  Bible,  through 
which  he  found  Christ.  "The  further  I  went,"  says  he, 
"the  newer  did  the  Word  of  God  become  to  me,  and  the 
more  divine  its  contents  and  effect.  When  reading  it,  I  forgot 
all  my  other  books.  I  was  ashamed  of  having  ever  been  in- 
different toward  God's  book,  or  of  having  ever  preferred 
any  other  book  to  it.  I  found  the  unity  of  the  divine  will 
in  the  redemption  made  by  Christ,  and  that  all  history,  all 
miracles,  all  the  commands  and  works  of  God,  cluster  about 
this  center,  to  raise  the  soul  of  man  from  slavery,  bondage, 
blindness,  folly,  and  the  death  of  sin  to  the  greatest  enjoy- 
ment, highest  holiness,  and  the  appropriation  of  those  bless- 
ings whose  magnitude  must  alarm  us  more  than  our  unworthi- 
ness,  or  capacity  to  make  ourselves  worthy  of  them  when 
communicated  to  us." 

One  evening,  when  poring  over  the  Scriptures,  Hamann 
read  the  account  of  Cain's  fratricide;  he  felt  his  heart 
beat  while  reading;  he  heard  a  voice  sobbing  and  groan- 
ing down  in  its  depths;  he  now  felt  that  surely  he  was 
the  murderer,  for  he  had  committed  this  fratricide  against 

1  "I  ate  and  drank  to  excess  in  vain;  I  revelled  in  vain,  and  ran 
about  in  vain.  Intemperance  and  meditation,  reading  and  knavery, 
industry  and  luxurious  idleness,  alternated  to  no  purpose.  In  vain  was 
I  extravagant  and  wanton  in  all.  In  nine  months  I  changed  my  lodg- 
ings almost  every  month;  nowhere  did  I  find  rest,  everybody  seemed 
treacherous,  low,  and  selfish."  Lebenslauf,  p.  204. 


176 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


the  only-begotten  Son  of  God.  He  fell  into  the  great- 
est agony,  and  confessed  his  sins  to  God  with  many  tears; 
"but,"  says  he,  "the  Spirit  of  God,  notwithstanding  my  ex- 
treme weakness,  my  long  opposition  to  his  witness  and  striv- 
ings, continued  to  reveal  to  me  the  mystery  of  divine  love 
and  the  blessedness  of  faith  in  our  gracious  and  only  Savior." 
He  now  read  the  Bible  with  redoubled  industry  and  increased 
devotion,  and  with  great  blessing  to  his  soul.  He  says:  "God 
be  praised,  I  now  feel  that  my  heart  is  more  peaceful  than 
ever  before  in  my  life.  When  threatened  with  sadness,  I  have 
overflowed  with  a  comfort  whose  origin  I  could  not  ascribe 
to  myself,  and  which  no  one  has  the  power  to  infuse  into 
his  neighbor's  heart.  I  am  amazed  at  its  excess.  It  so  de- 
stroys all  fear,  gloom,  and  distrust  that  I  can  find  no  more 
trace  of  them,  etc." 

Hamann  describes  his  own  adventures  down  to  his  conver- 
sion, which  forcibly  reminds  us  of  that  of  St.  Augustine.  All 
that  remains  to  be  said  is  briefly  the  following:  He  returned 
from  London  to  Riga  with  a  view  to  devote  himself  entirely 
to  the  house  of  Berens,  but  soon  after  having  been  summoned 
to  Königsberg  by  his  aged  sick  father,  a  misunderstanding 
occurred  between  that  firm  and  himself  which  grew  into  a 
rupture, — a  variance  which  almost  necessarily  subjected  Ha- 
mann to  the  charge  of  ingratitude.  A  neglect  of  all  human 
affairs  is  often  the  result  of  a  powerfully  excited  religious 
sentiment;  and  how  often  has  love  to  parents  been  compelled 
to  yield  to  a  pressure  of  devotion  disregarding  all  hindrances ! 
This  appeared  to  be  the  case  with  Hamann.  It  is  difficult 
to  form  an  opinion  here;  and  we  may  simply  refer  to  that 
important  saying  which,  in  fact,  has  been  repeatedly  applied 
too  rashly  and  in  the  wrong  place:  that  Christ  came  not  to 
bring  peace,  but  a  sword. 

Hamann  lived  henceforth  in  the  paternal  house  at  Königs- 
berg, where  he  published  his  first  works.  Kant,  whose  whole 
thinking  was  very  different  from  Hamann's,  placed  a  high 
estimate  upon  his  lofty  intellect,  and  numbered  him  among 
his  friends.  We  have  already  described  his  still  more  in- 
timate friendship  with  Herder.    "  In  those  happy  years,"  says 


HAMANN  S  PUBLIC  AND  PRIVATE  LIFE. 


177 


Hamann,  "I  first  learned  to  study,  and  I  have  long  lived  on 
the  harvest  then  gathered."  His  outward  circumstances  were 
not  favorable.  He  divided  his  time  between  the  labor  of  copy- 
ing in  the  chancery  and  aiding  in  the  publication  of  the 
Königsberg  Gazette.  After  seeking  employment  in  vain  in  a 
foreign  land,  he  obtained  a  situation  in  the  excise-office,  and, 
after  ten  more  years,  a  position  in  the  custom-house.  Thus, 
according  to  his  own  expression,  the  invalid  of  Apollo  was 
favored  with  the  office  of  a  publican.1  In  consequence  of  a 
change  in  the  management  of  the  establishment  in  1782,  the 
larger  portion  of  his  salary  was  withdrawn,  and,  though  with 
four  children,  he  lived  in  great  want.  Lavater  extricated  him 
from  this  exigency  by  procuring  a  respectable  sum  for  him 
from  Francis  Buchholz,  a  wealthy  young  man  in  Westphalia, 
thus  placing  him  in  easy  circumstances.  Hamann  spent  some 
time  in  Münster,  dividing  his  hours  between  the  house  of  his 
benefactor,  who  became  his  adopted  son,  and  the  circles  of  the 
Princess  Galitzin,  who  had  been  attracted  to  positive  Chris- 
tianity by  his  writings.  When  in  Düsseldorf  (Pempelfort)  he 
spent  the  time  with  Frederick  H.  Jacobi.  On  the  20th  of 
June,  1788,  as  he  was  about  to  take  his  departure  for 
Königsberg,  he  was  taken  suddenly  sick  and  died  on  the 
following  day,  at  the  age  of  fifty- eight. 2 

He  had  not  been  married  in  a  civil  or  ecclesiastical  sense, 
but  lived,  according  to  his  own  expression,  in  "a  wedlock  of 
conscience." 

Hamann's  life  makes  the  general  impression  of  a  personality 
in  which  Christianity  operated  more  as  a  foreign,  volcanic 
power  than  as  a  regular  and  systematic  force.  Lofty  thoughts 
and  emotions  sprang  forth  from  his  enthusiastic  inner  nature; 
resolutions  and  bright  flashes  of  the  moment  thrust  them- 
selves out;  but  they  never  arrived  at  a  peaceful  development 

1  Letter  to  the  Office  of  Domains.    Werke,  Vol.  III.  p.  208. 

2  His  grave,  originally  in  the  garden  of  the  Princess  Galitzin,  was 
neglected,  in  consequence  of  the  disasters  of  the  times,  nntil  1851,  when 
his  bones  were  removed  to  the  Cemetery  of  Überwasser,  near  the  New 
Gate  in  Münster,  and,  by  the  munificence  of  Frederick  William  IV.,  have 
been  honored  with  an  appropriate  monument. 


178 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


and  harmonious  culture.  Consequently,  the  career  of  the  man, 
with  all  his  piety  of  spirit,  did  not  remain  free  from  many 
objections.  Here,  too,  he  stood  in  decided  contrast  to 
Rationalism,  which  places  the  moral  conduct  of  a  man  above 
everything  else,  and  where  it  discovers  this,  it  is  satisfied 
with  a  defective  inner  life,  while,  in  regard  to  Hamann,  one 
feels  disposed  to  overlook  many  moral  defects  because  of  the 
fullness  of  the  latter.  Both  are  imperfect  phenomena  of  Chris- 
tian life,  which  consists  as  much  in  moral  piety  as  in  pious 
morality. 

Hamann's  literary  labors  were  confined  rather  to  short, 
piquant  essays,  published  at  irregular  intervals,  than  to  any 
great  work.  For  writing  large  books  he  had  neither  time 
nor  strength,  both  of  which  had  been  very  much  squandered. 
His  contemporaries  did  not  esteem  the  Magician  of  the  North 
very  highly.  Herder  appreciated  him  more  fully,  because  he 
had  received  from  him  his  strongest  intellectual  impulse. 
"  The  kernel  of  Hamann's  writings,"  says  he,  "  contains  many 
germs  of  great  truths,  together  with  new  observations  and  a 
vast  amount  of  learning.  Their  shell  is  a  laboriously  woven 
web  of  pithy  expressions,  hints,  and  flowers  of  rhetoric."1 
"His  understanding,"  says  Jacobi,  "was  penetrating  like 
lightning,  and  his  soul  was  possessed  of  more  than  natural 
majesty.'*2  Hamann  used  to  call  his  own  composition  a  dumb 
mimicry,  and  compared  himself  to  a  miner  seeking  treasures 
in  the  bowels  of  the  earth.3  He  even  confessed  that  much 
of  what  he  had  written  was  afterward  unintelligible  to  him- 
self. He  characterized  his  style  as  the  "  screaming  of  venders 
of  meat  and  hay."  Goethe,  who  was  not  personally  acquainted 
with  him,  says  of  him:  "He  was  deemed  an  abstruse  fanatic 
by  those  who  controlled  the  literature  of  the  day  (Nicolai  and 
his  confederates),  but  yet  ambitious  youths  were  attracted  to 
him.  He  enlisted  the  attention  of  those  'still  people'  in 
the  country,  as  they  were  called,  half  in  sport  and  half  in 
seriousness,  who,  though  they  did  not  connect  themselves 

1  Werke  zur  Litteratur  und  J\unst,  Vol.  I.  pp.  103 — 106. 

2  To  Kleuker,  in  Ratjeu;  J.  F.  Klcukcr,  p.  112. 

3  ^i'.ylliiiiöCiLe  Blätter ,  p.  136. 


HAMANN  ON  REASON  AND  REVELATION. 


179 


with  any  one  society,  constituted  an  invisible  church."1  But 
Goethe  also  intimates  that  many  strict  believers  were  repelled 
by  the  satirical  humor  of  his  style. 

Hamann  has  a  greatness  in  the  history  of  religious  develop- 
ment peculiar  to  himself,  and  difficult  to  be  measured  by  any 
present  standard.  In  order  to  obtain  a  closer  view  of  him, 
we  will  let  him  speak  for  himself;  and  since  his  style  was 
very  aphoristic,  we  will  close  our  lecture  by  communicating 
some  of  his  seed-thoughts,  without  regard  to  order.  The 
majority  of  them,  especially  those  related  to  religion,  are 
diametrically  opposed  to  the  skeptical  and  superficial  tenden- 
cies of  the  times.  In  reference  to  the  frequently  discussed 
relation  of  reason  and  revelation,  he  says:  "Let  us  not 
measure  the  truth  of  things  by  the  ease  with  which  we  con- 
ceive them.  There  are  actions  of  an  order  too  high  for  com- 
parison by  the  elements  of  this  world.  Even  Deity,  who 
converts  the  wonders  of  nature  and  the  original  works  of 
art  into  signs,  distinguishes  the  morals  and  the  deeds  of  the 
elect  saints.  Not  only  the  end,  but  the  entire  career  of  a 
Christian  is  the  masterpiece  of  the  unknown  Genius,  who 
is  recognized  by  heaven  and  earth  as  the  only  Creator, 
Mediator,  and  Preserver,  and  will  be  perceived  in  a  glorified 
human  form.  It  is  said,  that  our  'life  is  hid  with  Christ  in 
God.'  But  when  Christ  who  is  our  life  'shall  appear,  we 
shall  be  like  him'  in  glory.  .  .  .  Yes,  yes;  he  will  come, 
that  he  may  be  glorified  wondrously  with  his  saints  and  all 
believers.  How  infinitely  shall  the  joy  of  those  who  love  his 
appearing  surpass  the  lofty  ecstasy  of  the  wise  men  from 
the  East  who  saw  the  star."2 

Hamann  does  not  speak  so  favorably  of  his  century  as 
some  others  do.  "The  last  century,"  says  he;  "was  the 
kingdom  of  genius;  the  next  will  probably  (?)  flourish  under 
the  scepter  of  sound  reason.  What  a  sorry  figure  the  knights 
of  the  present  period  make  between  them!  Very  much  like 
an  ape  or  a  parrot  between  a  buffalo  and  a  lion.  ...  An 

1  Aus  meinem  Leben,  Book  12. 

2  Sibyllinlsche  Blätter,  p.  123.  (The  quotations  here  introduced  are 
gathered  promiscuously  from  his  different  works.) 


ISO 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


age  in  which  words  are  threshed,  and  all  kinds  of  attempts 
are  made  to  conceive  thoughts  and  grasp  feelings,  is  called 
philosophical.  Is  this  said  to  disgrace  our  period  or  philos- 
ophy, or  to  make  fools  of  ourselves  and  our  neighbors?"1 
"Reason,"  Hamann  continues,  "reveals  to  us  no  more  than 
Job  saw,  the  misfortune  of  our  birth,  the  excellence  of  the 
grave,  and  the  uselessness  and  insufficiency  of  human  life,  for 
we  have  no  clear  perceptions,  and  feel  within  us  passions  and 
impulses  whose  purpose  is  unknown  to  us." 2  "  What  is  religion 
but  pure,  sound  reason,  which  has  been  stifled  and  made 
wild  by  the  fall,  and  which  the  Spirit  of  God,  having  eradi- 
cated the  weeds,  and  prepared  and  purified  the  soil  for  the 
leception  of  the  heavenly  seed,  seeks  to  restore  in  us?"3  We 
are  not  yet  fully  made.  Our  reason  must  wait  and  hope, 
and  prefer  to  be  a  servant  rather  than  a  lawgiver.  .  .  . 
Experience  and  revelation  ar»3  the  same;  they  are  the 
necessary  wings  or  crutches  of  our  reason,  if  we  wrould  not 
let  it  always  remain  a  cripple."4  "The  revealed  religion  of 
Christianity  is  properly  called  faith,  trust,  confidence,  hopeful 
and  child-like  reliance  upon  the  divine  words  and  promises, 
and  upon  the  glorious  progress  of  a  life  developing  from 
glory  to  glory,  to  the  full  disclosure  and  apocalypse  of  the 
mystery  concealed  and  yet  believed  from  the  beginning,  and 
to  the  fullness  of  beholding  face  to  face."5 

"God  has  revealed  himself  to  man  in  nature  and  in  his 
Word.  .  .  .  Both  revelations  explain  and  support,  but 
cannot  contradict  each  other,  though  our  reason  would  some- 
times give  them  the  latter  interpretation.  It  is  indeed  the 
greatest  contradiction  and  abuse  of  reason  when  it  attempts 
to  reveal.  A  philosopher  who  discards  the  divine  word  in 
order  to  please  reason,  is  in  the  condition  of  the  Jews  whose 
indignant  rejection  of  the  New  Testament  was  proportionate 
to  their  violent  adherence  to  the  Old.    In  them,  the  prophecy 

1  Sibyllinische  Blatter,  pp.  130,  132. 

2  Biblische  Betrachtungen  eines  Christen.  Werke,  Vol.  I.  p.  96. 

3  Sibyllinische  Blatter,  p.  213. 

4  To  Jacobi.    Jacobi's  Werke,  Vol.  I.  p.  387. 

5  Siiyll.  Blatter,  p.  289.    Comp.  Golgatha  und  Scheblimini,  p.  45. 


HAMANNS  OPPOSITION  TO  THE  PREVAILING  PRIDE.  181 

is  fulfilled  that  that  very  thing  is,  in  their  opinion,  a  stumbling- 
block  and  foolishness  which  should  establish  and  fulfill  their 
other  notions.  Natural  science  and  history  are  the  two  pillars 
on  which  true  religion  rests.  Infidelity  and  superstition  are 
based  upon  shallow  physics  and  history.  Nature  is  just  as 
little  subjected  to  blind  chance  or  eternal  laws  as  that  all 
events  can  be  explained  by  characters  and  political  reasons." 1 
"All  the  treasures  of  nature  are  an  allegory,  or  mythological 
painting  of  heavenly  systems,  just  as  all  events  of  temporal 
history  are  outlines  of  private  deeds  and  discovered  wonders." 2 
"  Had  God'  intended  to  reveal  himself  to  men  and  to  the  whole 
human  race,  then  must  their  folly  become  more  apparent  who 
would  make  a  contracted  taste  and  their  own  judgment  the 
touch-stone  of  the  divine  word.  The  question  is  not  concerning 
such  a  revelation  as  would  meet  the  approval  of  a  Voltaire, 
a  Bolingbroke,  or  a  Shaftesbury,  and  best  satisfy  their  preju- 
dices, their  wit,  and  their  moral,  political  and  epic  whims, 
but  concerning  a  discovery  of  those  truths  whose  certainty, 
credibility  and  importance  would  be  adapted  to  the  whole 
human  family.  Those  people  who  think  themselves  so  wise  as 
to  feel  that  they  can  dispense  with  divine  instruction,  would 
find  errors  in  any  other  revelation,  and  feel  that  they  had 
need  of  none.  They  are  the  whole  who  need  no  physician."3 
We  might  add  many  other  passages  in  which  he  opposes 
the  pride  of  his  times.  We  may  introduce  a  few  connected 
with  the  import  of  Christianity,  in  which  the  author,  without 
using  the  polemical  dagger,  poured  his  whole  soul  into  his 
subject.  "The  Christian  alone,"  says  he,  "is  a  living  being 
because  he  lives  in  God,  and  with  God,  and  moves  and  exists 
for  God."4  "Through  God  alone  our  hearts  love  our  brethren, 
and  are  rich  toward  them.  If  we  do  not  know  Jesus  we  get 
no  further  than  the  heathen.  All  miracles,  mysteries,  and 
works  of  faith  and  true  religion  unite  in  that  worthy  name 
by  which  we  are  called  Christians,  and  which  is  the  only  key 

1  Biblische  Betrachtungen.  Werke,  Vol.  I.  p.  54. 
Ä  Brocken.  Werke,  Vol.  I.  p.  139. 
8  Biblische  Betrachtungen.  Werke,  Vol.  I.  p.  57  ff. 
4  Briefe,  Vol.  I.  p.  228.    Compare  p.  288. 


182 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


of  knowledge  that  unlocks  heaven  and  hell,  and  the  heights 
and  depths  of  the  human  heart."  "Unbelief  in  Christ  freezes 
our  hearts  and  confuses  all  the  ideas  of  our  reason,  while 
we  imagine  that  we  have  a  very  good  heart  in  our  breast, 
and  a  rational  mode  of  thinking  in  reference  to  our  conduct."1 
"Righteousness  in  Christ  is  not  a  bodice,  but  a  coat  of  mail, 
to  which  the  combatant  becomes  accustomed  just  as  a 
Miecenas  to  his  loose  robe." 2  "  Criticism  is  a  school- mistress 
to  lead  us  to  Christ.  As  soon  as  faith  springs  up  within  us, 
the  maid  is  driven  out  and  the  law  ceases ;  then  the  spiritual 
man  passes  judgment,  and  his  taste  is  far  safer  than  all  peda- 
gogic rules  of  philology  and  logic."3  It  was  in  accordance 
with  this  principle,  which  should  surely  be  restricted,  that 
Hamann  was  frequently  led  to  allegorize,  in  which  he,  as  he 
himself  confesses,  "driving  along  with  full  sail,  lost  sight  of 
the  letter."4  What  he  calls  the  "spiritual  man,"  wTas  frequently 
nothing  but  the  suggestion  of  his  wit  and  excited  fancy. 

To  retrace  our  steps,  we  will  close  with  some  of  Hamann's 
remarks  on  education.  After  Luther's  manner,  he  went  back 
to  the  simple  principles  of  Christianity. 

"An  upright  school-master,"  says  he,  "must  go  to  school 
to  God  and  to  himself,  if  he  would  discharge  the  functions 
of  his  office.  He  must  imitate  God  as  he  reveals  himself  in 
nature  and  in  the  Scriptures,  and,  by  means  of  both,  to  an 
equal  degree  in  our  souls.  .  .  .  The  law  of  God's  husbandry 
of  time,  according  to  which  he  waits  for  the  fruit  patiently, 
should  be  our  rule  of  life.  The  important  question  is,  not 
what  nor  how  much  we  men  and  children  know,  but  how? 
The  means  of  instructing  children,  therefore,  cannot  be  too 
simple.  However  simple  they  may  be,  there  will  always  be 
much  that  is  superfluous,  valueless,  and  perishing.  But  they 
must  abound  in  practical  working,  and  variety  and  fruitful- 
ness  for  application  and  practice."5  "Education  should  lie 
near  the  heart  of  every  father  and  citizen  in  the  country, 
because  the  seeds  of  injury  and  ruin  in  social  and  domestic 

1  Werke,  Vol.  I.  p.  490.  2  Idem,  p.  496. 

8  Idem,  Vol.  III.  p.  15.  4  Idem,  p.  27. 

6  Gedanken  über  meinen  Lebenslauf.    Werke,  Vol.  I.  p.  158. 


hamann's  views  on  education. 


183 


life  are  usually  sown  and  developed  in  schools.  Not  only  the 
luxuriant  worship  of  mammon  and  the  slavish  service  of  arms, 
together  with  artistic  industry  and  nobility,  but  also  the 
chimeras  of  beautiful  nature,  good  taste  and  sound  reason, 
have  introduced  prejudices  which  partially  exhaust  and  partially 
suffocate  at  birth  the  vital  spirits  of  the  human  race  and  the 
prosperity  of  civil  society."1  "Instruction  in  schools  seems 
to  be  designed  to  degrade  learning  and  render  it  useless.  .  .  . 
But  the  greatest  law  of  method  for  children  consists  in  letting 
ourselves  down  to  their  weakness ;  in  becoming  their  servant, 
if  we  would  be  their  master;  in  following  them,  if  we  would 
govern  them ;  in  knowing  their  language  and  soul,  if  we  would 
move  them  to  follow  in  our  path.  But  it  is  neither  possible  to 
understand  nor  to  fulfill  this  practical  principle  unless,  as  we 
say  in  common  life,  we  dote  on  children  and  scarcely  know  the 
reason  why." 2  "  Whoever  would  write  for  children  must  not 
hesitate  to  make  use  of  the  wonderful  Mosaic  history."3  He 
writes  to  F.  H.  Jacobi:  "When  I  say,  'become  like  children 
in  order  to  be  happy,'  I  hardly  mean,  'have  reason  and  clear 
conceptions.'  The  law  and  the  prophets  proceed  violently 
from  the  whole  heart,  the  whole  soul,  the  entire  strength, 
to — love."4  "  Once  an  angel  came  down  and  troubled  the  Pool 
of  Bethesda,  in  whose  five  porches  there  lay  many  sick,  blind, 
lame  and  withered  persons,  who  waited  for  the  moving  of 
the  waters.  So  must  a  genius  consent  to  shake  rules,  other- 
wise they  will  remain — water.  And  we  must  be  the  first  to 
enter  after  the  troubling  of  the  water,  if  we  would  experience 
the  effect  and  power  of  the  rules."5 

1  Sibyllinische  Blätter,  p.  318.    2  Idem,  p.  320,  326. 
8  Idem,  p.  339.  *  Jacobi's  Werhe,  Vol.  I.  p.  370  I 

*  Sibyllinische  Blätter,  p.  325. 


LECTURE  X. 


CLAUDIUS,  THE  WANDSBECK  MESSENGER.  —  JOHN  FREDERICE. 
KLEUKER.  —  FURTHER  DEVELOPMENT  OF  PHILOSOPHY  AFTER 
KANT.  —  JOHN  GOTTLIEB  FICHTE,  DOWN  TO  HIS  ENTRANCE 
UPON  HIS  PROFESSORSHIP  IN  JENA. 

Hamann  acquired  the  support  of  strictly  orthodox  Christians 
less  by  an  amiable  personality,  which  gratified  immediately  on 
its  appearance,  than  by  the  intellectual  brilliancy  that  shone 
forth  from  the  mysterious  darkness  of  his  inward  nature,  and 
supported  the  hope  that  all  the  positive  value  of  the  Refor- 
mation was  not  yet  lost.  But  in  Claudius,  on  the  contrary, 
the  famous  Wandsbeck  Messenger,  we  are  confronted  by  an 
individual  who  knew  how  to  open  the  hearts  of  men  by  his 
kindly  humor  as  by  a  magnetic  key,  and  who,  by  his  "  humble 
and  cunning  heartiness,"1  could  win,  I  might  say  bribe,  those 
who  were  of  opposite  religious  sentiments. 

We  must  repeat,  that  the  great  issues  of  Protestant  Chris- 
tianity were  never  fought  out  in  the  first  line  by  theologians, 
but  that  quite  different  people  took  part  in  the  conflict  on 
both  sides,  and  that  they  really  helped  to  decide  the  result. 
So  there  was  also  here  a  "man  of  letters,"  as  Claudius 
termed  himself  in  his  self- irony,  who  appeared  as  the  apologist 
*  for  Christianity,  in  defiance  of  those  other  wits  and  philos- 
ophers who  opposed  it  either  wholly  or  in  part.  Through 
him  a  decided  prepossession  for  Christianity  was  awakened  in 
many  minds;  and  as  it  had  previously  been  to  many  an 
encouraging  sign  that  the  genial  fabulist  and  comedian  Geliert 

*  Hase,  Kirchengeschichte j  §  455. 


CLAUDIUS,  THE  WANDSBECK  MKSSENGER.  185 

also  composed  beautiful  hymns,  so  might  many  a  happy  man 
of  the  world  now  give  a  more  willing  ear  to  the  poet  of  the 
Rhine- Wine  Song  than  to  the  most  zealous  pastor,  who,  he 
imagined,  after  all  defended  Christianity  only  for  the  sake  of 
his  office  and  his  precious  bread.  A  poet  who  dared  to  relate 
a  Biblical  narrative,  as  the  history  of  the  giant  Goliath,  in 
the  grotesque,  comical  style  of  the  minstrel,  might  receive  a 
hearty  welcome  from  the  wits,  who  also  loved  to  try  their 
humor  upon  such  matters;  but  they  soon  discovered  that 
the  man  who  had  such  jest  at  command  would  never  indulge 
in  it  where  sanctity  required  deep  seriousness.  And  thus 
there  was  not  seen  here,  as  is  often  the  case,  the  wolf  be- 
neath the  sheep's  clothing,  but  the  pure  and  chaste  nature  of 
the  lamb  and  the  simplicity  of  the  clove  behind  the  mask  of 
apparent  levity. 

Claudius  understood,  as  Luther  before  him,  the  great  art 
of  treating  divine  things  in  harmless  pleasantry,  because,  we 
might  say,  he  stood  on  terms  of  confidence  with  God.  He 
was  naive  in  the  noblest  sense  of  the  word,  and  in  this 
naivete  he  could  and  did  say  much  that  caused  offence,  and 
which  is  always  disgusting  when  imitated.  Thus  he  did  not 
present  a  gloomy  face  to  the  scoffers  at  Christianity,  nor  a 
pedantic  orthodoxy  to  pedantic  illuminists,  but  rather  con- 
fronted the  morbid  wit  of  philosophers  by  his  own  healthy  and 
pungent  mother-wit,  the  stiff  learning  of  the  lecture-room  by 
a  simple  natural  perception,  and  the  wanton  satire  of  un- 
godliness by  the  cheerful  irony  of  child-like  innocence.  "  The 
Wandsbeck  Messenger,"  says  P.  H.  Jacobi  of  him,  "  is  a  true 
messenger  of  God;  his  Christianity  is  as  old  as  the  world. 
Faith  is  to  him  not  merely  the  highest  and  deepest  philos- 
ophy, but  something  quite  beyond  it.  Moreover,  he  appears 
in  his  life  just  as  he  does  in  his  writings;  he  is  sublime  only 
in  secret,  but  full  of  humor  and  roguery  in  public  intercourse; 
yet  he  never  omits  to  utter  earnest,  striking  and  pungent 
words  whenever  his  mind  and  heart  tell  him  that  it  is  the 
right  time  and  place."1 

And  so  we  also  would  not  scorn  to  commune  with  this 

1  Werke,  Vol.  I.  p.  339. 


ioo 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


simple,  plain  messenger  of  God  and  peace,  who  pointed  out 
the  truly  divine  and  human  paths  to  his  times.  While  Ha- 
mann said  that  he  regarded  him  a  fool  who  would  deny  the 
existence  of  God,  but  him  a  greater  one  who  would  try  to 
prove  it,  Claudius  everywhere  spoke  against  this  thirst  for 
demonstration,  this  parade  of  arguments  and  counter- arguments 
in  religion.  "  No  man  can  truly  say  of  me  that  I  am  a  philos- 
opher; but  I  never  go  through  the  forest  without  this  thought: 
'Who  made  the  trees  to  grow  so  well?'  Then  I  have  a  divining, 
which  comes  softly  from  a  distance,  of  an  Unknown  One,  and 
I  would  wager  that  I  am  then  thinking  of  God,  so  reverently 
and  joyously  do  I  tremble  as  I  am  thinking."1  But  he  did 
not  confine  himself  to  this  natural  religion.  The  more  definite 
Christian  consciousness  of  the  blessing  of  redemption  takes 
its  place  immediately  beside  this  sense  of  God's  nearness. 
Indeed,  both  are  one  to  him.  In  the  forest  and  under  the 
starry  heavens  he  walks  in  a  Christian  temple,  in  which  the 
form  of  the  Son  of  man  meets  him,  and  extends  to  him  his 
hand.  "  Last  night  I  was  on  the  road,"  he  writes  one  Good- 
Friday  morning.  "  The  moon  shone  somewhat  coldly  upon 
my  body,  but  otherwise  so  clearly  and  beautifully  that  I  had 
a  real  joy  as  I  beheld  her,  and  could  not  look  at  her  enough. 
'Eighteen  hundred  years  ago  from  this  night,  thou  certainly 
did'st  not  shine  so,'  I  thought  with  myself,  'for  it  was  not 
possible  that  men  should  inflict  suffering  upon  a  righteous 
and  innocent  Man  in  the  presence  of  so  friendly  and  genial 
a  moon.'" 

But  he  does  not  regard  the  righteous  and  innocent  Man  as 
done  away  with.  He  also  honors  and  loves  Socrates,  and  will 
not  take  from  him  his  merited  wrreath ;  but  though  the  truth 
has  always  been  the  same,  and  at  the  time  of  Socrates  three 
and  one  made  four  just  as  they  do  now,  so  it  seems  to  him  an 
excessive  whim  of  toleration  to  wish  to  convert  the  old  philos- 
ophers indiscriminately  into  Christians.  Of  course,  all  the 
truly  wise  men  and  servants  of  God  since  the  creation  of 
the  world  are  connected  with  Christ,  just  as  the  stream  and 

1  Chria,  darin  ich  von  meinem  akademischen  Leben  und  Wandel  Nach- 
richt gebe  (in  one  Vol.). 


CLAUDIUS1  PACIFIC  CHRISTIAN  FAITH.  187 


the  river  are  connected  with  the  sea.1  But  even  John  the 
Baptist,  who  stood  next  to  him,  only  went  before  him.  And 
therefore  Claudius,  like  Luther,  was  seized  by  peculiar  feel- 
ings on  reading  John's  Gospel,  which  had  to  him  a  higher 
value  than  the  parables  and  mysteries  in  the  remaining 
Gospels;  and  hence  he  bowed  his  knee  as  often  as  he 
read  of  Christ  in  any  of  them,  confessing  that,  though 
other  people  may  do  without  Christ,  he  cannot;  that  he  needs 
some  one  to  elevate  and  sustain  him  in  life,  and  to  place  his 
hand  under  his  head  when  he  dies.  What  Christ  experienced, 
had  never  been  in  the  heart  of  any  man.  With  Claudius, 
Christ  is  a  holy  and  supernatural  form,  a  star  in  the  night, 
to  satisfy  our  inmost  necessities  and  our  most  secret  desires 
and  longings.  "Men  can  consent  to  be  stigmatized  and  broken 
on  the  wheel  for  the  mere  idea,  and  he  must  be  crazy  who 
can  entertain  the  thought  of  scoffing  and  laughing.  He 
who  has  his  heart  in  the  right  place,  lies  in  the  dust,  and 
praises  and  adores." 

Claudius  preserved  this  Christian  faith  as  a  feeling  and 
inward  experience  of  the  heart,  and  avoided  controversy  on 
it.  "I  cannot  understand,"  he  says,  "why  there  is  so  much 
demonstration  in  dealing  with  freethinkers  and  doubters,  and 
why  there  is  so  much  ado  about  freethinking  and  skepticism. 
Christ  says  briefly:  'If  any  man  will  do  his  will,  he  shall 
know  of  the  doctrine,  whether  it  be  of  God  or  whether  I  speak 
of  myself.'  If  he  who  can  not  or  will  not  make  this  effort, 
would  be  a  reasonable  and  candid  man,  or  wish  to  be  called 
such,  he  should  really  say  nothing  either  for  or  against 
Christianity."  Claudius,  with  all  his  decided  Christian  con- 
viction, was  therefore  an  opponent  of  all  bigotry  and  angry 
contention,  and  knew  how  to  make  them  ridiculous  under 
every  form.  "The  spirit  of  religion  does  not  lie  in  the  husk 
of  dogmatics,  does  not  have  its  nature  in  the  children  of  un- 
belief, nor  in  the  spoiled  sons  and  whited  sepulchers  of 
Pharisaical  faith,  and  can  be  just  as  little  enforced  by  ex- 
travagant leaps  of  reason  as  by  stiff  orthodoxy  and  monastic 
cism.  ...   It  is  an  honor  to  a  man  and  a  people  to  be 

1  Apologie  des  Sokrates,  and  in  the  Briefe  an  Andres. 
Vol.  II.— 13 


188 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


strict  and  zealous  for  their  religion,  but  it  is  the  part  of 
candor  to  examine  before  we  are  zealous." 

"To  improve  religion  by  the  reason,"  Claudius  makes 
Asmus  write  to  his  cousin  Andrew,  "appears  to  me  just  as 
if  I  would  regulate  the  sun  by  my  old  wooden  clock;  but 
on  the  other  hand,  philosophy  seems  to  me  a  good  thing, 
and  much  of  the  blame  heaped  upon  the  orthodox  is  well- 
grounded."  1  He  compares  it  to  a  broom,  with  which  to  sweep 
the  filth  from  the  temple.  Therefore  he  makes  his  cousin 
answer:  "Philosophy  is  undoubtedly  good,  and  people  do 
wrong  to  scoff  at  it;  but  revelation  is  not  related  to  philos- 
ophy as  much  to  little,  but  as  heaven  to  earth,  as  the  upper 
to  the  lower  world.  .  .  .  Philosophy,  in  a  certain  way, 
can  be  a  broom  for  sweeping  the  cobwebs  out  of  the  temple ; 
it  might  even  be  a  brush  for  dusting  off  the  sacred  statues; 
but  he  who  thinks  that  he  can  carve  and  polish  the  statues 
with  it,  requires  more  of  the  brush  than  it  can  do,  and  his 
•expectation  must  be  looked  at  as  extremely  ridiculous  and 
offensive.  .  .  .  Reason  will  certainly  not  admit  that  Chris- 
tianity should  debase  all  that  is  high,  and  that,  unlike  virtue, 
it  should  lessen  and  bring  into  the  old  rut  all  rare  proportion 
and  beauty,  but,  like  corruption,  should  even  remove  alto- 
gether, that  something  new  may  result.  It  should  not  do 
this  even  if  it  were  capable  of  it.  .  .  .  Therefore,  since 
the  sacred  statues  cannot  be  restored  by  reason,  it  is  patriotic 
in  the  highest  sense  of  the  word  to  maintain  intact  the  old 
form.  In  short,  cousin,  the  truth  is  a  giant  lying  asleep 
by  the  roadside;  the  passers-by  see  his  gigantic  form  but 
cannot  see  him,  and  they  do  well  to  be  on  their  guard.  When 
he  takes  away  the  veil,  you  will  see  his  face.  But  until  then, 
it  must  be  our  comfort  that  he  lies  beneath  the  veil;  so 
pass  by  reverently  and  with  trembling,  dear  cousin,  and  do 
not  indulge  in  sophistry." 

The  conservative  tendency  controlled  Claudius  with  in- 
creasing power  in  his  later  years,  and,  like  his  friend  Hamann, 
he  strove  earnestly  to  maintain  Lutheranism,  and  consequently 
the  Lutheran  doctrine  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  in  opposition  to 

1  Correspondenz  zwischen  mir  und  meinem  Vetter  (Vol.  IT.). 


CLAUDIUS1  VIEWS  ON  TRUTH,  AND  HIS  DEATH.  189 

the  Reformed.  But  even  here  his  mildness  and  candor  to- 
ward those  of  different  opinions  did  not  forsake  him,  and  he 
even  granted  that  Luther,  in  his  zeal  toward  those  who  differ- 
ed from  him,  went  too  far.  Indeed,  the  best  proof  that 
Claudius  appreciated  true  Christianity  in  all  Christian  con- 
fessions is  furnished  by  his  account  of  Fenelon,  with  which 
he  premised  the  second  volume  of  his  translation  of  the 
works  of  that  excellent  man.  He  prophesied  the  less  good 
result  the  longer  it  was  expected  from  that  purely  skeptical 
and  consuming  tendency  whose  object  was  to  dissolve  the 
positive  character  of  all  confessions  into  a  universally  reason- 
able substance,  acceptable  to  everybody,  but  therefore  un- 
satisfactory to  all.  People  would  do  better,  he  thought,  to 
strive  to  make  reason  believing,  instead  of,  as  they  supposed, 
to  make  faith  reasonable;  and  such  a  course  would  bring 
them  more  blessing,  and  undoubtedly  more  honor.1  But  he 
was  firm  in  this  view:  "There  is  one  truth,  and  only  one. 
It  cannot  be  taken  away  by  violence,  and  does  not  obtrude 
itself  upon  any  one;  but  it  is  communicated  in  a  greater  or 
less  degree  as  it  is  sought  humbly  or  with  self-denial,  — 4  with 
fear  and  trembling,'  says  the  Apostle.  Those  who  would  do 
violence  to  truth,  and  arbitrarily  create  it,  torment  themselves 
in  vain,  and  are  like  a  reed  shaken  by  the  wind.  Human 
works,  like  all  things  in  this  world,  shake,  and  change  their 
form  and  color.  Truth  remains,  and  does  not  shake;  and 
he  who  simply  and  patiently  unites  with  it,  breathes  the 
morning  air,  and  clings  to  what  he  has  until  he  experiences 
more."2 

Thus  wrote  Claudius  in  June,  1812.  He  died  in  the  year 
1815  in  Hamburg,  in  the  house  of  his  son-in-law,  Perthes, 
at  seventy-five  years  of  age. 

Of  the  theologians  who  attached  themselves  to  such  men 
as  Hamann  and  Claudius,  John  Frederick  Kleuker,  of  whose 
life  and  writings  we  have  been  reminded  again  of  late,  is 
the  only  one  of  this  period,  excepting  Herder,  of  whom  I  have 

1  Conversation  between  Andrew  and  Bertram.  Werke,  Vol.  VITT.  p.  136. 
*  Preface  to  Vol.  VIII.  p.  vii. 


190 


HISTORY  OF  TUE  CHURCH. 


any  knowledge.1  He  was  born  in  1749,  at  Osterode,  in 
the  Hartz  Mountains,  and  educated  in  the  University  of  Göt- 
tingen. He  made  the  acquaintance  of  Herder  while  a  private 
instructor  in  Bückeburg,  and  even  in  his  old  age  he  rejoiced, 
in  delightful  and  thankful  remembrance,  at  the  impression  made 
upon  him  by  his  sermons  and  whole  character.  Through 
Herder's  influence,  Kleuker  went  to  Lemgo  as  rector;  he 
subsequently  assumed  the  rectorate  at  Osnabrück,  and  finally 
became  a  theological  professor  in  Kiel,  where  he  died  in  1827. 
Kleuker  was  one  of  the  few  men  who,  in  doctrine  and  writings, 
stood  in  avowed  opposition  to  the  prevailing  theological  spirit 
of  his  times,  of  which  he  said,  that  "it  had  so  poisoned  the 
whole  atmosphere,  that  men  hardly  dared  to  speak  of  Christ 
as  anything  more  than  a  passing  shadow."  Still,  Kleuker  was 
not  quite  satisfied  even  with  Herder,  who  made  too  many  con- 
cessions to  the  new  style  of  doctrine  and  thinking. 

And  yet  Kleuker,  with  all  that  decided  faith  of  his  in 
revelation,  with  which  he  opposed  the  skeptical  coldness  and 
shallowness  of  the  understanding,  was  by  no  means  a  rigid 
believer  in  the  mere  letter.  He  was  distinguished  from  the 
ordinary  Supernaturalists  of  that  day  (particularly  from  Rein- 
hard)  by  laying  less  stress  upon  the  inspiration  of  the  words 
of  the  Bible  than  upon  its  peculiar  spirit,  and  by  making 
the  nature  of  revelation  consist,  not  in  the  supernatural  com- 
munication of  isolated  and  abstract  intellectual  truths,  but  in 
the  power  of  Christ's  own  life.  Yet  here  he  united  with 
Herder,  notwithstanding  their  difference  in  other  respects,  and 
cast  his  look  forward  upon  the  nature  of  the  new  theology. 
"The  truth  of  the  gospel  history,"  says  Kleuker,  in  a  truly 
Protestant  spirit,  "is  independent  of  the  contents  and  value 
of  all  formal  systems  of  doctrine.  The  teaching  of  Jesus  and 
its  written  records  would  never  have  experienced  such  violent 
attacks  if  they  had  remained  what  they  originally  were;  if 
there  had  not  been  constructed  upon  them  that  hierarchism 
and  intolerance  which  men  were  induced  to  oppose,  in  more 
than  one  way,  by  contending  against  Christianity,  which  was 

1  See  Ratjen,  Johann  Friedrich  Kleuker  und  Briefe  seiner  Freunde. 
Göttingen,  1842. 


KLEUKEITS  VIEWS  ON  THE  BIBLE  AND  CHRIST.  191 

only  seen  in  this  form.  Orthodoxy  does  not  depend  upon 
the  writer's  being  infallible  by  inspiration,  nor  upon  all  the 
words  and  lines  expressing  the  most  absolute  truth,  nor  on 
a  definite  number  of  gospels,  nor  on  the  traditional  names 
of  their  writers,  nor  on  the  canonicity  of  all  the  parts  found 
in  the  traditional  collection  of  those  writings,  nor  on  the  ab- 
sence of  real  contradictions  in  small  and  incidental  matters. 
The  Bible  is  divine  so  far  as  it  contains  the  doctrines,  direc- 
tions and  disclosures  of  our  eternal  moral  destination,  which 
were  given  and  authenticated  by  God.  There  was  a  time 
when  people  went  too  far  in  their  reverence  of  the  letter, 
thus  hindering  its  good  purpose  {sic!)  more  than  they  ad- 
vanced it,  by  failing  to  distinguish  aright  between  the  acci- 
dental, the  merely  historically  useful,  and  that  which  is  equally 
essential  and  important  for  men  of  all  periods."1 

And  we  may  ask:  What  is  that  which  is  equally  essential 
and  important  for  the  men  of  all  periods?  It  is  not,  as  the 
Rationalists  think,  a  mere  precipitate  from  general  moral 
statements,  but  the  appearance  of  the  Son  of  God  as  the 
Son  of  man,  the  revelation  of  God  in  Christ.  "Jesus  Christ 
has  lived,  and  imparted  to  men  a  doctrine  of  salvation,  yet 
not  as  his  own,  but  as  one  committed  to  him  for  promulga- 
tion by  God  himself.  Christ  has  proved  the  truth  of  his 
divine  mission  unequivocally  and  convincingly;  he  therefore 
deserves  our  entire  confidence,  and  his  doctrine  should  be 
believed  and  obeyed  by  us  as  that  of  the  only  Savior  of  men. 
This  is  what  must  be  proved,  but  at  the  same  time  the  only 
thing  necessary  to  be  proved."  Kleuker  did  not  altogether 
harmonize  with  the  Mystics  and  many  pious  people  with 
them,  together  with  Claudius,  in  opposing  the  rationalizing 
theologians  of  different  sorts  by  appealing  first  of  all  to  in- 
ward experience.  "  The  divine  power,"  he  held,  u  cannot  be 
experienced  until  it  is  recognized,  received  and  believed.  .  .  . 
Experience  is  founded  on  faith  and  reception,  reception  is 
founded  on  worth,  worth  on  truth,  and  truth  on  divinity  of 
origin,  which  is  revelation."  But  this  divinity  of  origin  was 
not  construed  by  him  in  a  petty  manner,  but  grandly,  not 

1  See  Ratjen,  p.  38. 


192 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


by  the  single  letter  but  by  the  whole  impression.  He  relied 
on  the  witness  of  the  Spirit  and  of  power,  and  thus  he  is  not 
so  far  removed  from  those  who  returned  to  inward  experience; 
but  he  gave  them  a  subject,  a  safe  and  positive  hold  in 
history,  and  in  this  way  he  constitutes  an  accommodation 
between  the  Biblical  Supernaturalists  in  the  ordinary  sense, 
and  theosophists  and  Mystics ;  between  the  mere  externality 
and  the  pure  inwardness  of  the  believing  standpoint.1 

In  judging  a  theologian  who  is  said  to  influence  his  age, 
we  must  not  look  alone  at  the  doctrines  laid  down  by  him 
in  his  books,  but  at  the  testimony  of  his  life  and  death.  "I 
had  the  fortune  to  be  present  when  Kleuker  died,"  says  his 
latest  biographer,  "  for  I  must  call  it  a  good  fortune  to  see  a 
true  Christian  die  as  calmly  as  he  did.  As  I  came  in,  the 
approach  of  death  was  clearly  indicated  by  his  cold  hands, 
almost  motionless  pulse,  and  difficult  breathing.  A  kind  of 
prophetic  spirit  appeared  to  come  over  him,  when  he  once 
more  warned  against  the  errors  of  his  contemporaries  by 
proclaiming  the  great  truths  that  he  had  so  often  taught. 
After  saying:  4 It  is  plainly  recorded  in  all  passages  of  the 
Old  and  New  Testament  that  there  is  only  one  true  Savior, 
and  by  them  all  the  error  of  our  day,  which  looks  to  self- 
redemption  for  salvation,  is  refuted,'  he  sweetly  fell  back 
into  the  corner  of  the  sofa,  bowed  his  head,  and  without 
experiencing  the  least  convulsive  struggle  with  death,  fell 
asleep,  and  passed  away  into  the  better  world." 

To  the  circle  of  the  men  already  mentioned, — Hamann, 
Lavater,  Claudius,  Kleuker,  and  even  Herder,  so  far  as  a 
part  of  his  character  and  labors  were  concerned, — there  be- 
longs one  of  the  philosophers,  Frederick  Jacobi,  though  he 
was  connected  with  his  believing  friends  only  in  one  respect, 
wrhile  in  another  he  opposed  positive  religion.  Kleuker, 
too,  stood  with  him  in  an  interesting  and  lately  published 
correspondence.  However,  before  we  dwell  more  particularly 
upon  that  remarkable  man,  we  must  again  consider  German 

1  To  the  learned  theologian  who  would  become  acquainted  with  the 
relation  of  Kleuker's  system  to  the  science  of  the  present  day,  we  may 
recommend  Dorner's  treatise,  published  with  Ratjen's  work. 


JOHN  GOTTLIEB  FICHTE. 


193 


philosophy  in  general,  and  its  further  development,  showing 
how  the  Kantian  system,  which  had  moved  and  controlled 
the  mind  for  a  length  of  time,  was  pushed  to  its  extreme  by 
th^t  of  Fichte,  thence  degenerating  into  its  opposite  by 
passing  through  the  so-called  idealism  of  Fichte  into  the 
natural  philosophy  of  absolutism.  We  will  therefore  speak 
first  of  Fichte,  beginning  with  him  as  a  man.  We  have  here 
•the  advantage  which  is  not  always  so  great  in  speculative 
philosophers  as  in  the  present  instance,  of  having  to  deal 
with  a  well-defined  individual,  who,  apart  from  all  system, 
is  clothed  with  a  great  interest,  and  with  a  life  which  is 
abundant  in  events  and  movements,  and  very  much  dis- 
tinguished in  this  respect  from  the  uniform  life  of  Kant.  In 
sketching  it,  we  shall  rely  on  the  Biography  by  his  son  and 
the  Correspondence  connected  with  it.1 

John  Gottlieb  Fichte,  the  son  of  a  linen-weaver,  was  born 
in  the  village  of  Rammenau,  in  the  Upper  Lausitz,  on  the 
19th  of  May,  1762.  He  received  his  earliest  instruction  from 
his  father,  who,  when  his  loom  was  at  rest,  and  his  labor 
in  the  garden  finished,  took  the  boy  in  hand,  taught  him  to 
read,  brought  before  him  hymns  and  pious  sayings,  and 
related  to  him  much  about  his  wanderings  in  Saxony  and 
Franconia.  By  this  means  he  awakened  in  the  boy's  soul 
the  first  longings  for  greater  things.  When  the  son  became 
larger  he  read  the  daily  morning  and  evening  prayers  in  the 
family  circle,  and  even  at  that  time  the  father  may  have 
nourished  the  silent  hope  of  some  day  hearing  his  son  preach 
in  the  village  pulpit.  Meanwhile,  the  pastor  took  a  friendly 
interest  in  the  aspiring  lad ;  he  was  especially  delighted  with 
the  good  memory  he  found  him  to  possess,  for  the  boy  was 
able  to  repeat  without  interruption  the  whole  sermon  that  he 
had  heard.  This  talent  led  him  to  the  further  favor  of  a 
nobleman,  in  whose  presence  young  Fichte  once  repeated 
such  a  sermon,  and  he  afterward  promised  to  take  his 
education  in  hand.  He  placed  him  in  the  charge  of  a  rural 
preacher  near  Meissen.    Here  Fichte  laid  the  foundation  for 

1  J.  G.  Fichte's  Leben  und  litter  arischer  Brieficechsel,  published  by  his 
son,  J.  H.  Fichte.  2  Vols.   Sulzbach,  1830  and  1831. 


194 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


his  knowledge  of  the  ancient  languages.  When  twelve  years 
of  age  he  entered  the  city  school  at  Meissen,  and  somewhat 
later  the  Schulpforte,  near  Naumburg,  in  which,  as  is  well 
known,  Klopstock  and  other  celebrated  Germans  before  and 
after  him  received  their  education.  The  oppressive  sense  of 
cloistered  seclusion,  which  had  stirred  many  a  young  life 
in  that  school  to  opposition,  grew  very  powerful  over  him, 
and  awakened  in  him  the  thought  of  secret  flight.  He  really 
escaped,  with  the  resolution  to  be  a  second  Robinson  Crusoe. 
In  the  midst  of  a  prayer  which  he  offered  to  God  for  his 
deliverance,  on  an  open  hill  not  far  from  the  Schulpforte,  he 
repented  earnestly  of  his  hazardous  step,  and  an  inward  voice 
commanded  him  to  return  immediately.  This  sincere  repent- 
ance not  only  gained  from  the  school  authorities  forgiveness 
for  his  error,  but  also  milder  treatment,  which  rendered  his 
stay  at  the  institution  much  easier  than  before. 

We  have  seen  from  the  youth  of  Hamann  and  others  how, 
with  the  defective  instruction  at  that  time  imparted  in  most 
of  the  German  schools,  all  study  was  confined  to  the  ancient 
languages.  This  was  particularly  the  case  in  the  celebrated 
Schulpforte.  Neither  the  sciences  nor  belles-lettres  were 
studied.  The  German  poets  were  only  read  in  secret,  the 
substantial  Haller  alone  being  allowed.  Thus  secretly  Fichte 
became  acquainted,  among  other  things,  with  Lessing'S  con- 
troversial writings  against  Goetze;  and  probably  here  first 
sank  into  his  soul  that  polemical  sting  which  he  directed  sub- 
sequently, in  Lessing's  spirit,  against  his  enemies.  Fichte 
matriculated  as  a  theological  student  in  the  University  of 
Jena,  at  Michaelmas,  1780;  but  he  soon  became  more  im- 
mersed in  philosophical  studies,  although  he  occasionally 
preached  with  success.  Eloquence  was  innate  to  him.  Being 
deprived  of  aid  from  others,  he  was  compelled  to  look  to 
himself  for  his  further  support,  when  his  good  star  led  him 
to  Switzerland,  where  the  position  of  private  tutor  was  offered 
him  by  the  landlord  of  the  Sword  Hotel  in  Zürich,  who 
wished  to  give  his  children  more  than  an  ordinary  education, 
and  had  written  for  a  German  candidate  for  that  purpose. 
Fichte  here  became  acquainted  with  Lavater,  and  also  preached 


FICHTE'S  EARLY  ADHERENCE  TO  KANTIANISM.  195 

sometimes,  both  in  the  city  and  environs;  and  here,  too, 
commenced  his  acquaintance  with  the  daughter  of  the  weigh- 
master  Rahn,  who  afterward  became  his  wife.  She  was  a 
niece  of  Klopstock. 

Meanwhile  Fichte  found  himself  compelled  to  leave  Zürich 
for  a  time,  to  seek  further  means  of  subsistence.  Provided 
with  introductory  letters  from  Lavater  and  others,  he  again 
went  to  Germany.  While  in  this  insecure  temporal  state 
(his  condition  even  drove  him  to  Poland),  he  studied  with 
increasing  care  the  Kantian  philosophy,  to  which  he  was  an 
enthusiastic  adherent.  He  did  not  rest  until  he  had  made 
Kant's  personal  acquaintance.  He  went  to  Königsberg,  visited 
the  philosopher  in  his  own  house,  and  attended  his  lectures; 
but  neither  in  Kant's  lecture-room  nor  in  his  house  did  he 
feel  satisfied.  His  reception  at  Kant's  house  was  cold,  while 
the  latter's  delivery  in  the  lecture-room  was  sleepy.  Still, 
Fichte  remained  an  ardent  disciple  of  the  critical  philosopher, 
and  soon  appeared  as  an  author  in  the  Kantian  spirit.  A  new 
work,  An  Attempt  at  a  Criticism  of  all  Revelation,  in  which 
the  Kantian  principles  in  relation  to  the  possibility  of  an 
external  revelation  were  prosecuted  in  a  masterly  manner, 
created  great  attention.  Everybody  regarded  it  as  a  writing 
of  the  Königsberg  philosopher  himself.  In  the  public  reviews, 
Kant  was  even  mentioned  and  lauded  as  its  author.  Even 
its  smallest  portions  were  recognized  as  bearing  traces  of 
Kant's  style,  until  Kant  himself  publicly  declared  that  he  was 
not  its  author,  but  a  certain  theological  candidate,  Fichte, 
a  private  tutor  in  the  family  of  Count  Crocow,  in  West 
Prussia.  This  first  made  Fichte's  name  celebrated  in  Germany; 
but  with  his  celebrity  there  also  arose  a  number  of  oppo- 
nents and  enviers,  and  from  that  time  forth  his  aspiring 
talents  were  drawn  into  the  whirlpool  of  literary  conflict, 
from  which  even  his  matured  mind  was  never  extricated. 

In  the  midst  of  these  conflicts  Fichte  again  went  to  Zürich, 
and  consummated  his  matrimonial  engagement  in  the  Autumn 
of  1793.  "You  are  the  half  of  my  soul,"  he  wrote  to  his 
betrothed  before  setting  out  on  his  journey,  "and  we  will 
complete  the  indissoluble  bond  of  virtue  as  soon  as  we  meet; 


196  HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 

each  will  be  the  other's  support  through  life,  and  we  will 
remind  and  admonish  one  another  if  either  become  forgetful; 
.  .  .  for  I  have  firmly  resolved  to  be  an  upright  man  in 
the  full  sense  of  the  word,  and  to  this  end  I  shall  often  need 
your  support."  The  marriage  occurred  in  Baden,  Aargau, 
and  Lavater,  who  was  to  unite  them,  but  who  committed  his 
task  to  J.  G.  Schulthess,  delighted  the  bridal  couple  with 
some  congratulatory  verses.  About  this  time  Fichte  became 
acquainted  with  the  author  of  Lienhard  and  Gertrude,  who, 
living  in  seclusion  at  Richterswyl,  was  reflecting  upon  the 
first  efforts  of  his  system  of  popular  education.  Pestalozzi 
and  Fichte  pleased  each  other,  and  continued  friends  through 
life.  Even  in  later  years,  Fichte  declared  enthusiastically 
that  the  true  remedy  for  diseased  humanity  lay  in  Pestalozzi^ 
system  of  education.1  Fichte  now  first  lived  at  Zürich,  in 
the  house  of  his  father-in-law,  under  the  most  delightful 
circumstances,  and  was  employed  outwardly  by  the  great 
universal  convulsions  of  the  Revolution,  and  inwardly  by  the 
further  study  and  elaboration  of  his  philosophical  system. 
At  Lavater's  solicitation  he  consented  to  deliver  public  lectures 
before  the  people  of  Zürich,  and  Lavater  himself,  though  he 
little  approved  of  his  philosophical  train  of  thought,  was  one 
of  his  first  and  most  zealous  auditors.  Here  we  also  have 
another  gratifying  proof  of  that  intellectual  freshness  and 
high  and  pure  liberality  of  Lavater  which,  at  that  time, 
brought  men  of  the  most  different  thinking  very  closely  to- 
gether, because  the  anticipations  of  the  blessings  striven  for 
on  both  sides,  and  the  joy  in  seeking  them,  were  much 
stronger  than  the  displeasure  felt  at  the  mere  momentary 
points  of  difference.  Subsequently,  when  Fichte  was  charged 
with  atheism,  Lavater  wrote  to  him  the  following  verse,  in 
the  very  spirit  of  the  Fichtian  philosophy: 

"Thinker  beyond  compare!   Thy  existence  proves  to  me 
That  of  the  one  Eternal  Spirit,  —  Source  of  all  spirits. 
Conldst  thou  ever  doubt?  Before  thyself  I  place  thee  now, 
Prove  to  thyself,  thou  art  the  Eternal  Spirit's  beam." 


1  In  the  Reden  an  die  deutsche  Nation. 


FICHTE  AS  AN  INSTRUCTOR. 


197 


Fichte  was  removed  from  his  friendly  relationship  at  Zürich 
by  his  call  to  Jena  as  Professor  of  Philosophy.  His  wife  still 
remained  a  while  in  Zürich.  His  public  labors  as  a  teacher 
in  the  higher  sense  commenced  with  his  entrance  upon  his 
professorship.  Jena  was  at  that  time  the  center  of  modern 
science;  here  lived  and  taught  Schiller,  whose  acquaintance 
Fichte  had  previously  made  and  with  whom  he  shared  an 
admiration  of  the  celebrated  Kant.  From  this  point  Fichte 
entered  into  friendly  relations  with  the  Weimar  celebrities, 
Wieland,  Goethe  and  Herder,  and  formed  acquaintance  with 
Jacobi,  Humboldt,  the  brothers  Schlegel,  and  others.  Young 
men  streamed  to  Jena  from  all  quarters.  Swiss,  Danes,  Cour- 
landers,  Livonians,  Poles,  Hungarians,  Siebenbürgen,  and 
some  Frenchmen,  sat  at  the  feet  of  the  German  teacher,  in 
order,  with  the  "doctrine  of  science,"  as  Fichte  called  his 
philosophy,  to  receive,  as  it  were,  the  inmost  spirit  and  es- 
sence of  science.  Fichte  fully  felt  the  grandeur  and  impor- 
tance of  his  position  as  an  academical  teacher.  Indeed,  ho 
was,  perhaps,  the  first  once  since  the  days  of  the  Refor- 
mation to  conceive  anew  the  true  mission  of  such  an  in- 
structor. He  did  not  design  his  influence  upon  the  students 
to  be  simply  scientific,  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word,  nor 
merely  learned,  just  a  literal  work  that  can  be  dis- 
patched at  will  by  the  pen.  He  was  not  a  dictating  machine, 
and  he  knew  the  power  of  the  living  word  and  of  personal 
intercourse.  He  wished  to  morally  ennoble  and  intellectually 
incite  the  young  men  at  the  university;  to  teach  them  to 
conceive  of  the  calling  and  destination  of  the  learned  man 
from  the  most  beautiful  and  elevated  point  of  view;  to  raise 
their  minds  above  the  common  and  trivial,  and  to  lead  them 
to  the  ideal.  He  was  less  desirous  to  conduct  into  the  ancient 
past  than,  with  a  prophetic  enthusiasm,  to  prepare  a  more 
beautiful  and  vigorous  future. 

In  this  effort  Fichte  had  much  in  common  with  Schiller. 
The  same  morally  stirring  and  purifying  power  that  we  have 
perceived  in  Schiller's  poems  is  also  found  in  Fichte's  lectures 
on  The  Vocation  of  the  Learned  Man,  and  similar  writings, 
as  well  as  in  his  letters.   Yet  with  this  moral  ideality  there 


198 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


was  connected  a  bold  disregard  of  the  traditional  and  the 
existing,  a  certain  defiance  which  was  seized  too  easily  by 
the  young  as  the  expression  of  a  moral  sense  of  strength, 
but  considered  by  more  sober  men  with  a  certain  misgiving, 
indeed,  as  all  the  more  an  unmixed  evil  at  every  period.  A 
contemporary  and  admirer  of  Fichte  says:  "The  spirit  of 
the  Fichtian  philosophy  is  proud  and  courageous;  the  realm 
of  human  knowledge  is  too  contracted  for  it  at  every  corner 
and  end;  it  strikes  out  new  paths  at  every  step  it  takes, 
and  fights  with  the  language  in  order  to  wrest  out  words 
enough  to  express  the  fullness  of  its  thoughts;  it  does  not 
lead  us  gently,  but  seizes  us  and  carries  us  off,  and  its 
finger  never  touches  an  object  without  grinding  it  to  pieces. 
Fichte's  fundamental  trait  is  the  most  sterling  integrity.  Such 
a  character  usually  takes  little  cognizance  of  delicacy  and 
refinement.  .  .  .  His  lecture,  therefore,  rages  like  a  storm, 
which  discharges  its  fire  at  single  strokes.  His  imagination 
is  not  glowing,  but  energetic  and  powerful.  His  pictures 
are  not  attractive,  but  bold  and  grand.  He  dives  into  the 
inmost  depths  of  his  subject,  and  reigns  over  the  whole  king- 
dom of  ideas  with  a  candor  which  proves  that  he  not  only 
lives  in  this  invisible  land  but  is  its  ruler."1 

Of  the  effect  produced  on  young  men  by  Fichte's  lectures, 
the  same  observer  says:  "They  believe  in  Fichte  as  they 
never  did  in  Reinhold,  his  predecessor.2  He  was  understood 
far  less,  but  believed  all  the  more  obstinately.  The  Ego  and 

1  Forberg,  Fragmente  aus  meinen  Papieren.  Jena,  1796.  In  Fichte's 
Lehen,  Vol.  L  p.  295  f. 

2  In  the  history  of  recent  philosophy,  Reinhold  constitutes  the  tran- 
sition from  Kant  to  Fichte.  Compare  on  him,  his  son's  (Ernest  Rein- 
hold)  Geschichte  der  Phil.  Vol.  IL  Div.  2.  p.  140. — It  is  remarkable,  for 
our  historical  purpose,  that  Reinhold  arose  from  the  Catholic  church, 
but  found  his  way  through  philosophy  to  Protestantism,  for  the  develop- 
ment of  recent  philosophy  down  to  Schelling  generally  belongs  to  Prot- 
estantism, and  from  there  planted  a  Catholic  speculation  beside  the 
Protestant.  Reinhold  was,  moreover,  such  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of 
Kant  that  he  maintained  that,  "after  a  hundred  years,  Kant's  reputa- 
tion will  be  equal  to  that  of  Jesus  Christ!"  Comp.  Schiller  and  Ear- 
ner's Prießcechsel,  Vol.  I.  p.  162. 


ficiite's  influence  and  purpose. 


199 


the  non-Ego,  the  watchwords  of  the  Fichtian  philosophy,  are 
now  the  symbol  of  philosophers  of  yesterday,  as  matter  and 
form  were  at  the  time  of  Kant  and  Reinhold.  .  .  .  Fichte 
designs  to  operate  upon  the  world  through  his  philosophy. 
The  propensity  to  restless  activity,  which  dwells  in  every 
noble  young  man's  breast,  is  carefully  nourished  and  fostered 
by  him,  that  it  may  bring  forth  fruit  in  its  season.  At  every 
opportunity  he  enforces  his  point,  that  action,  action  is  man's 
vocation;  by  which  there  is  ground  for  fearing  that  the 
majority  of  the  young  men  who  take  this  to  heart  may  look 
upon  an  appeal  to  action  as  nothing  better  than  an  appeal 
to  destruction.  Besides,  the  proposition  is  false.  Man's  great 
call  is  not  to  act;  for  if  he  cannot  act  without  being  unjust, 
he  should  remain  idle."1 

Thus  much  for  that  observer.  Now  let  us  consider  what 
Fichte  says  of  himself.  "  The  great  end  of  my  life,"  he  wrote 
to  his  betrothed,  "is  to  endow  myself  with  every  kind  of 
formation  of  character  (except  the  scientific,  for  I  observe  much 
in  that  which  amounts  to  nothing)  which  my  destiny  in  any 
wise  allows  me.  I  search  for  the  course  of  Providence  in 
my  life,  and  find  that  this  can  be  the  plan  which  he  has  for 
me,  and  I  have  learned  on  the  whole,  that  my  character  has 
grown  more  definite  through  all  the  events  of  my  life.  .  .  . 
I  have  too  little  talent  to  bend  myself,  to  manage  people  who 
are  opposed  to  me;  I  can  only  get  along  with  honest  people, 
am  too  open,  and  am  not  qualified  for  any  court.  ...  I 
have  as  little  capacity  as  possible  for  being  a  skillful  man 
of  business;  I  will  not  merely  think,  but  act;  I  can  not  dis- 
pute about  trifles.  ...  It  is  not  fortune  which  I  seek,  for 
I  know  that  I  will  never  find  it.  I  have  only  one  passion, 
one  necessity,  one  full  sense  of  myself, — to  work  outside  of 
myself.  The  more  I  act,  the  more  fortunate  do  I  seem  to 
myself."2 

Thus  we  find  that,  according  to  the  testimony  of  Fichte 
himself  and  of  others,  he  did  not  so  much  insist  upon  think- 
ing as  upon  acting,  and  we  would  consequently  expect  from 

1  Forberg,  Fragmente  aus  meinen  Papieren,  p.  295. 
8  Biographie,  p.  73. 


200 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


him  a  philosophy  inciting  immediately  to  action.  But  we 
would  be  very  much  deceived  if  we  were  to  expect  from  him 
a  so-called  practical,  that  is,  popular  philosophy  of  life. 
Such  practical  systems  of  philosophy  of  life  were  not  wanting 
at  that  day,  but  Fichte's  was  at  the  very  farthest  remove 
from  them.  What  he  denominates  "  action"  is  not  action  after 
the  manner  of  Campe,  an  active  industry,  nor  the  quiet 
philanthropic  labors  for  public  utility.  But  it  is  one  de- 
signed to  affect  the  destinies  of  others,  to  give  the  world  a 
new  direction,  a  new  impulse;  a  transforming,  reformatory, 
and  even  revolutionary  action;  yet  it  is  not  blind  and 
hap-hazard,  a  mere  agitation,  but  rather  an  action  from  the 
inmost  conviction,  and  from  the  consciousness  of  the  highest 
personal  freedom;  and  this  consciousness  itself  was  again 
connected  in  the  most  intimate  way  with  Fichte's  philosophy. 

Fichte's  system  was  not  a  fruit  of  idle  thought,  but  forced 
itself  on  him  in  struggling  after  truth.  But  abstract  and  un- 
popular, therefore,  as  it  may  sound  to  those  who  are  not 
accustomed  to  speculative  technical  language,  it  was  with 
Fichte  a  fruit  of  the  noblest  and  most  vigorous  moral  effort; 
it  was  most  inwardly  inrooted  with  his  heroic  and,  I  may 
say,  titanic  character.  This  was  what  gave  it  such  an  en- 
trance into  the  minds  of  the  young,  even  where  they  only  half 
understood  it,  or  only  divined  it  and  were  astonished  at  it. 
But  this  feature  was  also  felt  by  his  opponents.  They  knew 
very  well  how  to  ferret  out  that  revolutionary  element  of 
Fichte's  thinking,  which  was  hurled  as  an  electric  spark  into 
the  minds  of  the  young ;  and  Fichte  was  correct  in  supposing 
that  it  was  not  so  much  his  atheism  that  made  people  afraid 
as  his  democracy,  which  just  at  that  time  of  political  excite- 
ment appeared  doubly  dangerous.  But  as  both  theory  and 
practice  had  grown  most  intimately  in  him,  and  as  his  extra- 
ordinary thoughts  were  directed  to  extraordinary  deeds,  it 
was  natural  that  one  should  be  looked  at  in  and  with  the 
other.  Before  we  see  how  and  why  heavy  charges  of  atheism 
were  brought  against  him  we  shall  have  to  present  a  picture 
of  his  philosophy,  in  the  next  lecture,  as  far  as  the  nature 
of  our  course  will  allow. 


fichte's  account  of  his  RELATIONS  AT  JENA.  201 

In  conclusion,  I  will  communicate  something  more  from 
Fichte's  letters  to  his  wife,  which  prove  to  us  the  respect  in 
which  he  was  held  by  the  students,  the  high  esteem  he 
placed  upon  himself,  how  boldly  he  prejudged  his  surround- 
ings, and  how  firmly  he  believed  that  he  stood  with  the 
government,  in  spite  of  his  opponents,  though  the  case  soon 
turned  out  very  differently.  "  Last  Friday,"  he  writes  on  the 
26th  of  May,  1794,  "I  delivered  my  first  lecture.  The  largest 
lecture-room  in  Jena  was  too  small;  the  whole  floor  and 
court  were  full ;  people  stood  over  each  other  on  tables  and 
benches.1  ...  It  is  true  that  the  students  had  a  general 
prepossession  for  me,  which  I  have  certainly  not  destroyed 
by  my  personell  presence.  So  far  as  I  have  heard,  my  lecture 
has  been  received  with  universal  applause.  When  I  have  to 
deal  with  them  personally,  I  am  very  friendly  and  pleasant, 
and  place  myself  altogether  on  the  same  footing  with  them; 
and  this  gains  their  favor.  ...  My  prospects  with  my 
associates  are  very  promising;  I  can  now  say  that  I  have 
been  received  by  all  with  open  arms,  and  very  many  worthy 
men  are  desirous  of  my  special  acquaintance.  ...  I  ad- 
here to  a  certain  ingenuousness,  am  kind,  open  and  friendly 
toward  all  people."2 

Further  on  he  writes:  "My  career  has  opened  well.  The 
good  opinion  of  the  students,  and  my  own  demeanor,  secured 
the  favorable  judgment  of  the  professors,  ministers,  etc.  The 
Duke  has  had  a  long  interview  with  me.  Goethe  shows  himself 
continually  as  my  warm  friend,  and  I  have  ground  for  think- 
ing that  even  the  Duke  himself  would  be  delighted  to  do 
something  for  me."  Still  further  he  says:  "If  it  should  be 
written  to  Zürich  at  the  present  time  that  I  have  been  held 
to  account  in  Weimar  because  of  my  teaching,  and  that  I 
have  been  forbidden  to  write  one  thing  and  another,  don't 
believe  it.  ...  I  am  now  the  general  by-word  throughout 
Germany,  and  on  every  hand  wonderful  reports  are  circu- 
lated about  me.  But  this  is  all*  right,  for  it  proves  that  I 
am  not  altogether  unworthy  of  notice.    But  the  truth  of  my 

1  The  same  had  been  the  case  with  Melanchthon  in  "Wittenberg. 

2  Biographie j  p.  282  ff. 


202 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


relation  to  our  government  is,  that  there  is  unlimited  con- 
fidence placed  in  my  rectitude  and  sagacity,  and  that  I  have 
been  expressly  commissioned  to  teach  just  according  to  my 
own  conviction;  and  the  assurance  has  been  made  that  I  will 
be  protected  against  all  injury."  In  another  letter,  written 
on  the  21st  of  July,  he  says:  "You  look  most  strangely  at 
the  German  princes  through  your  Zürich  spectacles.  You  ex- 
pect of  our  princes,  because  they  have  the  power,  to  do  what 
your  aristocrats  would  do  if  they  could.  The  difference  is, 
that  ours  are  not  so  perfectly  foolish  as  yours.  Yours  are  like 
that  cow-boy  who  wished  to  be  a  king,  so  that  he  might 
smear  his  bread  with  syrup  as  thick  as  he  wanted.  Your 
aristocrats  think  in  the  same  way,  and  others  among  you  see 
through  your  own  glasses.  ...  No  one  shall  do  me  any 
harm,  for,  I  wrarrant  you  in  few  words,  I  do  not  lay  myself 
open  to  charges,  and  I  have  heart  and  courage." 


LECTUKE  XL 


FICHTE'S  IDEALISM.  —  CHARGES  OF  ATHEISM.  —  FICHTE  IN 
BERLIN.  —  RETURN  TO  THE  RELIGIOUS  STANDPOINT. — 
"ADVICE  FOR  THE  BLESSED  LIFE."  —  FICHTE'S  LAST  DAYS 
AND  DEATH. 

In  order  to  estimate  Fichte's  philosophy  and  its  only  pass- 
ing influence  upon  the  Protestant  church  and  theology,  so  far 
as  lies  within  the  scope  of  these  lectures,  we  must  resume 
with  Kant,  to  whom  Fichte  united  with  the  greatest  enthu- 
siasm until  he  announced  a  system  beyond  that  of  his  master, 
which,  in  its  most  essential  definitions,  entered  into  direct  con- 
tradiction with  the  Kantian  philosophy,  and  caused  a  breach 
between  the  philosophical  schools  that  has  not  yet  been 
closed.  I  must,  however,  premise  just  here,  that  of  necessity 
it  cannot  be  my  purpose  to  give  a  scientific  representation 
of  Fichte's  system  any  more  than  it  has  been  of  Kant's.  This 
task  must  be  left  for  the  history  of  philosophy,  from  which 
we  only  select  what  is  suitable  for  our  purpose.  But  for 
this  very  reason,  we  must  also  desist  from  wishing  to  judge 
Fichte's  philosophy  itself,  which  we  should  only  be  justified  in 
doing  if  we  could  view  the  connection  of  Fichte's  system  with 
his  personal  character  and  the  inward  organic  connection  of 
his  principles.  We  speak  only  of  the  impression  which  his 
philosophy  has  left  behind,  and  of  the  movements  it  has 
called  forth,  and  therefore  constitute  for  us  only  an  idea  of  it 
necessary  to  understand,  to  a  certain  degree,  that  impression 
and  those  movements. 

Kant  set  out  by  supposing  that  man's  knowledge  is  limited 
Vol.  II.— 14 

i 


204 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


by  space  and  time,  and  that  he  cannot  perceive  anything  of 
God  and  divine  things  with  his  pure  reason.  Yet  Kant  de- 
notes, as  amends  therefor,  God  and  immortality  as  the  require- 
ments of  practical  reason,  but  above  all  morality,  as  the 
Categorical  Imperative  requires  it,  as  the  essential  thing 
preceding  all  religion.  Fichte  also  took  first  this  subjective 
standpoint  of  a  humanly  limited  and  bounded  knowledge. 
According  to  him,  too,  we  therefore  do  not  perceive  things 
as  they  really  are  in  themselves,  but  only  as  they  appear  to 
us,  according  to  our  aspect  of  them. 

But  while  Kant  had  accepted  a  real  world  before  man,  and  only 
made  the  apprehension  and  observation  of  it  dependent  on  the 
disposition  of  our  human  knowledge,  Fichte  went  further  by 
conceiving  that  the  whole  external  world  itself  is  a  production 
of  the  human  reason,  the  mere  reflection  of  images  of  the  mind, 
which  arise  and  move  in  our  inmost  being  either  unconsciously 
or  consciously.  To  him  nothing  had  any  reality  except  the 
Ego,  or  the  consciousness,  which  he  did  not  regard  as  some- 
thing resting  and  inert,  but  as  a  continuous  deed,  a  creative 
power.  In  opposition  to  the  common  understanding,  which 
simply  proceeds  upon  the  supposition  that  there  is  a  world 
and  a  good  many  things  in  it,  which  our  senses  perceive  and 
of  which  we  afterwards  conceive  a  notion  in  the  mind,  he 
maintained  that  there  are  conceptions  or  images  in  us,  at 
which  we  first  arrive  unconsciously,  and  afterward  by  further 
thinking.  Man  creates  things  first  in  his  thought,  conceives 
them,  thinks  of  them  before  him,  and  so  far  they  are  present 
to  him.  Consciousness  first  forms  itself  in  man,  or,  in  Fichte's 
words,  "the  Ego  posits  itself."  This  is  the  original  deed  of 
knowledge.  Then  comes  the  second  act  of  our  consciousness, 
namely,  that  the  Ego  can  also  think  of  that  which  is  different 
from  it,  which  is  not  Ego.  "The  Ego  posits  a  non-Ego." 
But  of  this  non-Ego  man  only  knows  that  it  is  the  opposite 
of  the  Ego.  It  is  nothing  which  has  being  in  itself,  nothing 
truly  present,  material,  substantial,  or  extended  in  space. 
Rather,  that  which  appears  to  us  to  be  only  matter  is  merely 
the  momentary  obstruction  of  our  thinking,  just  as  the 
momentary  freezing  of  a  stream.    Likewise  that  which  we 


ficiite's  notion  of  god. 


205 


call  spirit  is  not  a  substance,  something  intelligible  beyond 
us;  therefore  Fichte  also  avoided  the  expressions  of  spirit 
and  soul,  because  one  might  very  easily  understand  by  them 
something  unspiritual,  dead,  material  or  ghost-like.  He  re- 
turned simply  to  the  Ego,  but  which,  as  we  have  already 
said,  must  not  be  regarded  as  inert,  merely  present  and 
receiving  impressions  from  without,  but  as  a  productive 
power,  a  constantly  active  and  creative  Ego. 

From  the  foregoing,  it  was  quite  natural  that  this  idealism 
this  philosophy  of  the  Ego,  should  seek  to  remove  from  our 
notion  of  God  everything  that  could  remind  us  of  matter  and: 
substance.  Even  the  Scriptural  expression,  "  God  is  a  Spirit," 
was  not  refined  and  spiritual  enough  to  our  philosopher,  be- 
cause one  might  very  easily  conceive  by  a  spirit  something 
personally  bounded  and  limited.  "God  is  not  a  being"  says 
Fichte,  therefore,  "but  a  pure  acting,  just  as  I  am  not  a 
being,  but  a  simple  acting.  God  ceases  to  be  infinite  as 
soon  as  he  is  made  the  object  of  a  notion,  as  soon  as 
he  is  definitely  conceived  and  apprehended.  Every  notion 
of  God  is  an  idol.  If  we  mentally  discard  everything  that 
thus  limits  God,  and  brings  him  down  to  our  consciousness, 
we  have  remaining  to  us  a  totally  incomprehensible  being, 
pure  consciousness,  intelligence,  and  spiritual  life  (without 
any  further  definition)."  Thus  Fichte  at  last  found  no  other 
expression  by  which  to  designate  God  than  the  Ego,  in  so 
far,  indeed,  as  he  is  not  conceived  as  a  limited,  personal,  and 
individual  Ego,  but  as  an  absolute  Ego,  elevated  above  all 
finiteness  and  limitation.  He  called  it  also  "the  moral  order 
of  the  world." 

We  should  certainly  be  unjust  toward  Fichte  if  we  were 
to  so  distort  his  doctrine  as  to  make  it  mean  that  he,  John 
Gottlieb  Fichte,  wished  to  make  himself  God.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  protests  most  solemnly  the  very  opposite ;  and  there 
is  need  of  but  little  art,  but  all  the  more  hateful  feeling,  to 
draw  such  conclusions  simply  from  assertions  which  are 
not  understood  in  their  whole  connection.  We  could  easily 
say  with  greater  propriety  that  Fichte,  like  Spinoza,  denied 
rather  the  existence  of  the  world  than  of  God;  that,  in  order 


206 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


to  conceive  of  God  truly  spiritually,  he  invited  upon  himself 
the  appearance  of  the  denial  of  God,  just  because  he  would 
not  allow  anything  to  unite  with  the  Creator  which  has  a 
creative  character  itself,  and  reduces  him  to  finiteness.  This 
spiritualizing  effort  may  even  have  a  deeper  ground;  it 
awakens  from  its  sluggishness  the  thinking  mind,  which  is 
always  too  ready  to  think  of  God  in  a  human  way,  or  which 
really  thinks  of  nothing,  and  only  thoughtlessly  repeats  words 
and  formulas  of  which  it  can  give  no  account. 

And  Fichte  was  not  the  first  to  try  this  spiritual  flight. 
Many  earlier  thinkers,  some  of  whom  were  Christian  men, 
had  to  submit  to  the  conduct  of  the  multitude  in  dragging 
down  to  commonness,  and  either  purposely  perverting  or 
intentionally  distorting,  what  they  had  laid  down  as  the  ex- 
pression of  a  mind  struggling  for  proper  ideas  of  God.1  It 
was  said  of  many  an  one:  "He  does  not  believe  in  God,"  only 
because  he  did  not  conceive  of  God  so  corporeally  and  pal- 
pably as  the  masses.  Yet  there  is  danger  in  the  effort, 
though  it  may  proceed  from  a  noble  purpose;  for  it  may 
come  to  pass  that,  by  this  process  of  subtilization  and  spirit- 
ualization,  everything  may  pass  off  in  smoke  at  last,  and  our 
eyes  be  shaded  more  and  more  by  darkness  from  simply 
gazing  at  the  sun.  We  should,  at  all  events,  know  that  we, 
as  men,  must  perceive  God  only  in  a  human  way,  and  that 
our  expressions  of  him  are  figurative,  and  do  not  correspond 
to  his  nature;  but  just  because  we  are  men  and  finite  beings, 
we  should  humbly  make  use  of  the  language  adapted  to  our 
necessities,  and  which  God  himself  has  not  been  ashamed  of 
in  revealing  himself  and  condescending  to  us.  The  philos- 
ophers who  would  lead  man  beyond  himself  to  a  region  in 
which  all  our  inward  thoughts  pass  away,  and  where  we 
cannot  find  a  footing,  are  responsible,  without  calculating  the 
impression  they  make  upon  other  minds,  for  speaking  a 
language,  which,  because  of  this  distance  from  every  human 
language,  is  necessarily  exposed  to  misconceptions ;  and  they 

1  We  need  only  call  to  mind  Origen,  John  Scotus  Erigena,  and  the 
later  sects  of  the  Middle  Ages. 


A  RADICAL  DANGER  OF  FICHTE'S  TEACHING.  207 

must  accordingly  put  up  with  the  reaction  which  their  boldly 
dropped  speech  provokes. 

Fichte  was  a  teacher  of  young  men  attending  the  Univer- 
sity. Among  those  who  sat  at  his  feet,  were  some  who  were 
called  to  promulgate  the  God  of  the  gospel  to  Christian 
churches,  a  God  who  is  only  Creator  when  there  are  creat- 
ures from  his  hand,  who  has  called  a  world  into  being,  not 
a  mere  phantom  world,  but  one  that  is  real  and  actual,  in 
which  sin,  misery,  and  the  pressure  of  suffering  are  presented 
but  too  truly  as  realities,  against  which  mere  imagination  is 
of  no  aid;  for  they  really  exist,  and  can  be  removed  only 
by  a  higher  reality,  by  a  divine  matter-of-fact,  by  the  act  of 
God's  love  as  historically  revealed  to  us  in  redemption  by 
Christ.  And  if  the  ground  were  taken  from  under  the  feet 
of  these  young  men,  thus  called  to  proclaim  such  a  doctrine; 
if  there  were  nothing  left  them  of  all  religion  except  their 
poor  Ego,  of  which  they  themselves  were  never  energetically 
conscious,  as  Fichte  was  of  his,  was  there  any  remedy  a- 
gainst  a  justified  scruple  springing  up  in  such  of  them 
as  were  not  accustomed  to  limit  the  freedom  of  their  inquiry 
betimes?  There  now  arose  the  dilemma,  which  has  subse- 
quently been  renewed  frequently,  and  is  undoubtedly  founded  in 
the  twofold  nature  of  Protestantism :  whether,  in  the  interest 
of  science,  of  free  inquiry  and  the  free  promulgation  of  re- 
sults, we  should  take  a  perfectly  free  course,  or,  in  the 
interest  of  ecclesiastical  fellowship,  to  which  the  weak,  the 
unstable  and  the  babes  belong,  we  should  place  a  limit  on 
our  conduct?  We  call  it  a  dilemma,  though  we  ourselves 
would  not  unconditionally  assert  either  one  course  of  conduct 
or  the  other.  What  in  one  case  may  lay  claim  to  approval, 
may  in  another  be  blamable.  Before  the  acts  close,  it  is 
very  easy  to  perform  too  much  of  one  part  or  another. 
Through  our  fondness  for  knowledge  we  may  interfere  with 
faith,  and  through  our  zeal  for  faith  we  may  obstruct  the 
course  of  inquiry;  and  if  this  dilemma  is  great  in  a  thoroughly 
honest  will,  the  case  becomes  doubly  bad  when  passion  plays 
a  part  on  either  side. 

We  might  almost  suppose  that  this  was  the  case  in  the 


208 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


suit  instituted  against  Fichte,  which  cast  him  out  in  the  very 
midst  of  his  brilliant  career.  Fichte  was  charged  with  no 
less  an  error  than  atheism,  and  down  to  the  present  day  the 
most  learned  men  are  not  agreed  as  to  whether  or  not  we 
can  apply  this  abused  name  to  Fichte's  system,  as  promul- 
gated at  that  time  in  the  so-called  doctrine  of  science.  In 
addition  to  this  there  comes  into  consideration  what  Fichte 
himself  gives  us  to  understand :  that  his  democratic  principles 
were  just  as  much  a  thorn  in  the  eyes  of  his  opponents  as 
his  atheism.  His  extraordinary  mode  of  teaching,  in  which 
he  set  aside  all  the  traditional  customs,  offended  many.  He 
chose  Sunday  for  delivering  moral  lectures  to  the  students. 
In  this  the  Consistory  of  Weimar,  in  which  Herder  then  had 
a  seat,  thought  that  it  could  perceive  the  concealed  purpose 
of  wishing  gradually  to  undermine  public  services,  in  spite 
of  Fichte's  earnest  protest,  and  his  appeal  to  Gellert's  ex- 
ample, whose  moral  lectures  had  also  been  delivered  on 
Sunday;  and,  as  the  theater  of  Weimar  was  open  on  Sunday, 
why  not  also  the  philosophical  lecture-room  ?  This  controversy 
on  his  reading  lectures  on  Sunday  was,  meanwhile,  only  the 
prelude  to  the  greater  battle.  Fichte  published  a  work  on 
The  Grounds  of  Our  Faith  in  a  Divine  Government  of  the 
World,  in  which  the  moral  order  of  the  world  itself  was  des- 
ignated and  asserted  as  God,  and  that  we  need  no  other 
God,  and  can  conceive  of  no  other.  "But  the  existence  of 
this  God  does  not  admit  of  a  doubt;  it  is  the  most  certain 
thing  there  is,  and  the  ground  of  all  other  certainty.  The 
idea  of  God  as  a  special  substance,  on  the  contrary,  is  im- 
possible and  contradictory.  It  is  lawful  to  say  this  plainly, 
in  order  to  nullify  the  talk  in  the  schools,  so  that  the  true 
religion  of  happy  and  upright  action  may  assert  itself."1 

Of  course,  many  a  pious  soul  could  not  do  otherwise  than 
take  exception  at  these  expressions.  Though  Fichte  might 
be  satisfied  with  the  moral  order  of  the  world,  the  Christian's 
faith  in  God,  which  is  also  a  faith  "of  joyous  and  upright 
action,"  but  at  the  same  time  faith  in  an  essential  and  real 
God,  was  not  distinguishable  in  this  philosophical  theory. 

1  Biographie,  Vol.  II.  p.  108. 


APPEALS  AGAINST  FICHTE'S  LECTURES  AND  WRITINGS.  209 


But  he  would  not  have  fallen  in  consequence  of  this  theory, 
even  if  no  prohibition  had  been  promulgated  against  it.  Yet 
the  interdict  came.    The  work  in  which  Fichte  had  presented 
his  theory  of  the  divine  order  of  the  world  was  rigorously 
prohibited  in  Electoral  Saxony,  and  from  there  the  attention 
of  the  Weimar  court  was  directed  to  the  dangerous  character 
of  his  teaching,  "as  one  not  only  in  open  conflict  with  the 
Christian,  but  even  with  natural  religion."   "As  experience," 
says  the  written  requisition  of  the  18th  of  December,  1798, 
"  sufficiently  teaches  the  sad  consequences  to  the  general 
good,  and  especially  to  the  security  of  states,1  arising  from 
the  tolerance  of  those  miserable  attempts  to  propagate  still 
further  the  already  increasing  disposition  toward  infidelity, 
and  to  eradicate  the  ideas  of  God  and  religion  from  the  hearts 
of  men,2  it  is  not  a  matter  of  indifference  to  us,  in  regard 
to  our  own  country,  if  teachers  in  neighboring  lands  publicly 
and  audaciously  profess  such  dangerous  principles."  The 
Weimar  government  was  accordingly  requested  by  its  neighbor, 
Electoral  Saxony,  to  "impose  a  solemn  punishment  upon  the 
author  of  the  work  after  being  found  guilty,  and  also  to  give 
express  orders  to  prohibit  such  mischief  at  the  University  of 
Jena,  and  also  at  the  gymnasia  and  schools."  Connected 
with  this  was  the  threat,  that,  in  case  the  request  was  not 
heeded,  Electoral  Saxony  would  prohibit  her  sons  from  attend- 
ing the  University  of  Jena.    Similar  appeals  for  the  pro- 
hibition of  the  obnoxious  writings  were  presented  at  other 
Protestant  courts.   Hanover  acceded,  while  Prussia,  though 
she  had  issued  her  strenuous  Religious  Edict  ten  years  previ- 
ously, declined  touching  the  matter. 
It  was  Prussia  which  first  awakened  in  Fichte  the  first 

1  Hinc  illse  lachrymae. 

2  There  is  confusion  enough  here  in  speaking  of  ideas  eradicated 
from  the  heart.  We  can  only  eradicate  ideas  from  the  head,  but,  for 
this  reason,  religion  does  not  stick  by  ideas.  Religion  would  first  have 
to  be  eradicated  from  the  heart,  which  no  human  philosophy  can  do. 
Of  course,  the  heart  may  also  go  astray  when  the  head  becomes  giddy 
and  confused;  but  we  cannot  find  relief  by  ideas;  the  renewal  must 
come  from  the  ground  of  the  heart, —  a  deed  performed  by  God's  Spirit 
alone. 


210 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


gleam  of  hope  that,  when  driven  from  Saxony,  he  would  find 
refuge  there.  And  this  really  took  place;  yet,  after  issuing 
his  Appeal  to  the  Public,  he  forestalled  his  formal  dismission 
by  requesting  his  release.  Encouraged  by  Dohm,  the  Prussian 
Minister,  he  reached  Berlin  in  the  early  part  of  July,  1799,  and 
when  King  Frederick  William  III.  had  news  of  his  arrival, 
he  answered:  "If  Fichte  is  so  quiet  a  citizen,  and  is  so  far 
removed  from  all  dangerous  connections  as  I  learn  that  he 
is,  I  willingly  grant  him  a  residence  in  my  country.  The 
state  has  nothing  to  do  with  deciding  on  religious  principles." 
According  to  Fichte's  own  report  to  his  wife,  the  king  is 
even  alleged  to  have  said:  "If  it  is  true  that  he  is  hostile 
to  God,  God  may  settle  this  matter  with  him;  it  makes  no 
difference  to  me,"  —  a  mode  of  expression  which  fully  reminds 
us  of  Frederick  the  Great.1  Relying  upon  the  king's  word, 
Fichte  spent  a  summer  and  autumn  alone  in  Berlin,  and  re- 
moved his  family  thither  from  Jena  in  the  winter.  The  letters 
which  he  wrote  to  his  wife  during  his  solitude,  bear  traces 
of  indignation  at  the  wrong  which  he  had  suffered.  His  own 
expression  is  remarkable  as  an  indication  of  his  character 
and  of  his  state  of  mind  at  that  time :  "  As  I  do  not  possess 
any  humility,  I  must  be  proud  to  have  something  to  bring 
me  through  the  world." 

Fichte's  Appeal  to  the  Public  made  different  impressions 
upon  his  friends.  While  some  compared  him  to  Luther, 
whose  fate  he  shared,2  and  referred  to  the  legions  who  would 
struggle  with  him  for  the  cause  of  enlightenment,  others 
seized  the  occasion  to  exhort  Fichte  to  look  within  himself, 
and  to  remind  him  that  his  fate  was  not  purely  unmerited, 
but  that  his  philosophical  intolerance  had  called  forth  the 

1  See  Biogr.  Vol.  IT.  p.  391.  We  learn  from  Eylert's  Biographie,  p.  451, 
Frederick  William  Ill's  high  esteem  for  Frederick  the  Great.  Unfor- 
tunately, no  further  particulars  are  given  here  of  Fichte's  appointment. 
However,  the  presence  of  Fichte  in  Berlin  produced  many  commotions, 
as  well  in  the  government  as  in  the  public,  for  he  had  enviers  in  the 
ministry;  comp.  Fichte's  and  Schelling's  Philosophische  Briefwechsel,  pub. 
by  J.  G.  Fichte  and  K.  E.  A.  Schelling,  p.  3.  Stuttgart,  1856. 

2  Forberg  to  Fichte,  Biographie,  p.  413. 


lavater's  letter  on  fichte's  appeal.  211 

reaction  of  political  intolerance.  Lavater  was  one  of  these 
sincere  and  well-meaning  friends.  Here,  as  everywhere,  he  de- 
spised the  intrusion  of  rough  physical  violence  upon  the  conflicts 
of  spiritual  forces.  "Where  there  is  light,"  he  wrote  to  Fichte  on 
the  12th  of  September,  1795,  there  "is  opposition  from  without; 
where  there  is  life,  the  less  vital  asserts  itself  by  numbers 
and  coalition.  We  all  experience  this.  Every  day  I  see  more 
clearly  that  inward  force  excites  outward  force  against  it, 
and  that  positive  power  is  in  constantly  increasing  conflict 
with  natural,  real,  and  indwelling  strength.  As  the  flesh  in  us 
opposes  the  spirit,  so  does  the  world, — that  is,  the  power  of 
the  multitude, — oppose  the  power  of  independent  minds.  What 
a  contrast  between  your  condition  and  your  philosophy!  Oh, 
my  dear  friend,  through  what  morasses  of  contrasts  must  we 
labor!"1 

We  have  already  seen  how  Lavater,  in  a  poem,  thrust  aside 
the  charge  of  atheism  against  Fichte  by  reference  to  him  as  a 
man.2  But  after  Fichte's  Appeal  appeared,  Lavater  wrote  to  him, 
on  the  7th  of  February,  1799,  as  follows:  "Your  heart  loves  the 
truth,  though  your  understanding  must  look  down  with  a  sort  of 
compassion  upon  mine,  which  does  not  reach  to  the  heel  of  yours. 
My  first  feeling  wras  a  regret  that,  when  you  were  so  dictatorially 
attacked,  you  were  not  questioned  about  your  opinions,  and 
the  course  of  respectful  humanity  was  not  adopted.  But,  I 
must  say  with  equal  frankness,  I  felt  very  uncomfortable  on 
reading  so  many  sharp  and  bitter  passages  against  your 
opponents.  Do  you  not  believe,  dear  friend,  that  it  would 
have  been  better  for  your  person  and  for  the  good  cause  if 
you  had  treated  them  more  good-naturedly,  and  done  more 
justice  to  their  opinions?  .  .  .  What,  at  the  present  time, 
is  unquestionably  the  reigning,  and  what  the  oppressed  church? 
Evidently,  it  is  the  reigning  philosophy  that  oppresses  the 
church.  What  distinguishes  the  prevailing  philosophical  church 
fröm  every  common,  orthodox,  or  hierarchical  church?  Cer- 
tainly it  is  not  tolerance  and  forbearance,  nor  mildness  and 
fairness  toward  opponents,  who  scarcely  dare  to  speak  any 
more.    What  bonds  of  inhuman  opinions,  censures,  unworthy 

1  Biographie,  p.  415.  2  Comp.  Lecture  X. 


212 


HISTORY  OF   THE  CHURCH. 


scoffs,  and  ignoble  misdeeds  can  be  accumulated  to  furnish 
proof  of  it!  How  often  has  this  been  brought  home  to  the 
critical  philosophers;  but  what  good  has  it  done?  And,  allow 
me  to  confess  freely,  your  Appeal  has  just  this  harshness  and 
intolerance  toward  others  who  think  as  freely  as  yourself." 
Then  Lavater  confessed  to  him,  with  all  candor,  that  the 
Fichtian  God  is  not  that  of  Christianity,  nor  the  one  whom 
humanity  now  needs  or  is  qualified  for.  "  Of  millions  of  men," 
he  writes,  "  there  is  scarcely  one  who  can  leap  so  far  beyond 
himself,  and  have  the  very  least  thought,  or  even  feeling,  of 
your  God.  And  a  God  with  whom  we  cannot  think  or  feel 
at  all,  is  not  only  no  God,  but,  to  him  who  cannot  think  or  feel 
anything  of  him,  is  an  absolute  nonentity." 

Fichte  did  not  receive  this  letter  of  Lavater  very  favorably. 
He  thus  expressed  himself  on  it  to  Reinhold,  the  philosopher: 
"Lavater,  too,  has  written  to  me.  Apart  from  that  common 
misconception  of  the  true  meaning  of  philosophy,  he  has  a 
faith  in  the  authority  of  Jesus,  Paul,  etc.,  or,  more  strictly, 
in  his  Zürich  translation  of  the  Bible,  which  makes  it  im- 
possible for  me  to  adjust  his  opinions.  I  have  recently 
answered  him  briefly,  that  he  did  not  understand  me,  and 
have  promised  him  a  more  elaborate  reply,  which,  because 
of  my  disgust  at  the  whole  affair,  I  shall  have  to  leave  un- 
fulfilled."1 

This  false  relation  in  which  the  so-called  scientific  stand- 
point stood  to  that  of  faith,  now  grew  continually  larger  in 
Protestant  Christendom,  and  we  are  suffering  from  it  to  this 
very  day.  It  appears  as  if  there  was  a  studied  wish  to  mis- 
understand it,  and,  instead  of  restoring  the  breach,  to  make 
it  continually  larger.  Yet  it  is  remarkable  that  just  when 
Fichte  had  gone  farthest  from  the  common  spirit  of  Chris- 
tianity, he  was  again  led  near  to  it.  His  removal  to  Berlin 
brought  on  the  crisis  in  his  inward  life.  "  His  profound  return 
to  himself,"  says  the  younger  Fichte  of  his  father,  "his  real 
completion,  and  his  ripest  maturity  in  doctrine  and  in  his  view 
of  life,  began  after  this  epoch,  when,  separated  from  all  the 
pressure  of  predominant  or  conflicting  opinions,  and  undis- 

1  Biographie,  Vol.  II.  p.  275. 


fichte's  return  to  the  christian  point  of  view.  213 

turbed  about  the  applause  or  reprobation  of  others,  he  em- 
ployed himself  only  with  his  self- culture.  .  .  .  Elevating 
and  reconciling  many  antitheses,  the  religious  view  of  the 
world  subsequently  arose  in  him,  and  he  embraced  it  with 
confidence  and  strength." 1  Afterward,  Fichte  himself  did  not 
regret  the  occurrence  of  the  controversy,  because  it  had  in- 
duced him  to  penetrate  the  living  fountain  of  inward  strength. 
A  conversion  in  the  ordinary  sense,  that  is,  a  complete  return 
to  the  orthodox  doctrine  of  the  church,  or  a  renunciation  of 
the  speculative  standpoint  and  a  falling  back  upon  mere 
edification  and  practice,  could  not  be  expected  of  a  mind 
like  Fichte's;  still  less  could  we  expect  a  leaping  from  one 
extreme  to  the  other,  or  a  sudden  change  of  language.  Had 
this  course  been  taken,  there  would  have  been  but  little 
gained  for  either  Fichte  or  the  truth;  for,  though  practical 
Christianity  was  exposed  to  much  danger  because  of  this  in- 
creasing speculative  tendency  in  Germany,  we  would  not  for- 
get that  it  betokened  a  freshness  and  activity  of  the  mind, 
which  indicated  a  revivification  of  religious  ideas,  an  intellect- 
ual new  birth  soon  to  take  place  in  all  religious  thinking. 
"The  thought  of  a  living  God,"  says  the  younger  Fichte, 
"  as  he  frees  man  from  the  bondage  of  imperfection,  and  re- 
deems the  will  from  the  tantalizing  labor  of  an  endless  struggle, 
(since  it  is  apprehended  that  good-will,  humility,  and  love, 
and  not  the  deed,  avail  before  him),  was  present  in  the 
earlier  times  in  faith  and  experience,  and  was  at  the  farthest 
remove  from  the  education  of  that  day.  If  it  should  be  re- 
covered, it  would  be  just  as  much  in  need  of  sanctification 
through  science  and  higher  development  as  this  latter  had 
first  broken  loose  from  faith."2 

It  is  nevertheless  remarkable,  that  just  Fichte's  idealism, 
which  led  him  to  the  abyss  of  atheism,  was  compelled,  in 
opposition  to  the  barren  intellectual  view  of  divine  things,  to 
aid  in  leading  to  the  profound,  fundamental  ideas  of  Chris- 
tianity, to  the  idea  of  the  resignation  of  the  whole  spirit  to 
God,  and  of  the  blessedness  which,  even  in  this  life,  is  found 
in  communion  with  the  Eternal,  and  to  oppose  the  defective 

1  Biographie,  Vol.  II.  p.  409.  8  Idem,  p.  411. 


214 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


moral  standpoint,  which  had  been  occupied  since  Kant's  day, 
by  a  truly  religious  one  in  the  deepest  sense  of  the  word. 

Fichte,  in  his  Destiny  of  Man,  published  in  Berlin  at  the 
close  of  the  century,  referred  to  the  deep  meaning  of  faith;1 
and  in  his  Fundamental  Features  of  the  Present  Age,  he 
made  prominent  the  importance  of  Christianity  in  history  "as 
the  only  true  religion,"  and  the  great  meaning  of  the  Chris- 
tian state.2  After  this  he  strove,  especially  in  his  Advice  for 
a  Blessed  Life,  or  the  Doctrine  of  Religion,  a  series  of  popular 
lectures  delivered  in  Berlin  in  1806, 3  to  prove  the  union  of 
his  present  system  of  philosophy  with  the  principles  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  construed  the  latter  quite  differently  from  Kant. 
While  Kant  and  the  Rationalists  made  the  essence  of  Chris- 
tianity to  consist  principally  in  morality,  in  the  fulfillment  of 
the  moral  law,  and  therefore  designated  and  prized  with 
special  pleasure  those  parts  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  in  which 
the  individual  moral  requirements  are  presented  in  sharply 
defined  characters,  as  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  and  many 
of  the  parables  in  the  first  three  Gospels  (for  they  could 
not  acquire  a  taste  for  John,  whom  they  regarded  as  a 
Mystic),  Fichte  now  cast  himself  upon  the  fourth  Gospel,  and 
recognized  in  it  the  only  reliable  source  for  Christ's  true 
doctrine.  Yet  he  did  this  in  a  one-sided  way,  and  miscon- 
ceived the  remaining  Scriptural  truths,  which  belong  to  the 
entire  body  of  Christian  doctrine  and  history  just  as  much 
as  John  does. 

"  The  philosopher,"  says  Fichte,  "can  only  concur  with  John, 
for  he  alone  respects  reason,  and  appeals  to  the  inward  proof 
which  the  philosopher  alone  allows.  'If  any  man  will  do  his 
will,  he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine,  whether  it  be  of  God  or 
whether  I  speak  of  myself.'  The  other  promulgators  of  Chris- 
tianity built  upon  the  outward  demonstration  of  miracles, 
which,  at  least  to  us,  prove  nothing.  Further,  John  alone 
of  the  Evangelists  contains  what  we  seek  and  wish,  a  doctrine 

1  Third  Book.  The  whole  is  divided  into  doubt,  knowledge,  and  faith. 
Comp,  especially  the  beautiful  conclusion. 

2  In  Lecture  XIII.  p.  409  ff. 

8  His  labors  in  Erlangen,  in  1805,  were  only  temporary. 


fichte's  erroneous  views  of  christian  truth.  215 

of  religion;  the  best  which  the  rest  afford,  on  the  other 
hand,  if  taken  without  John's  supplement  and  interpretation, 
is  nothing  more  than  morality,  which,  with  us,  has  a  very 
subordinate  value."1  In  these  last  words,  Fichte  discarded 
Kant  and  the  Kantian  Rationalism  in  the  most  decided  manner, 
and  turned  to  Mysticism,  to  which  the  inward  and  prominent 
relation  to  God  is  of  infinitely  more  value  than  the  incidental 
and  passing  expression  of  feeling  in  the  outward  relations  of 
life.  But  while  he  thus  brought  John  again  to  honor,  he 
was  as  unable  as  the  Rationalists,  or  perhaps  still  less  so 
than  they,  to  feel  at  home  in  the  Pauline  Christianity,  for  he 
incomprehensibly  designates  it  as  a  degeneration  of  Chris- 
tianity.2 And  why  so?  Because  Fichte,  with  all  his  approach 
to  Christianity,  totally  ignored  the  nature  of  sin  and  the 
opposition  between  sin  and  redemption,  which  Paul  makes  so 
prominent;  and  he  expected  salvation  only  from  an  immediate 
union  with  God,  which  boldly  sets  aside  this  opposition  by 
an  ideal  leap.  "Christianity,"  he  says,  in  contradiction  of 
Paul,  "is  not  a  means  for  reconciliation  and  absolution;  man 
can  never  be  disunited  from  God,  and  so  far  as  he  imagines 
that  he  is  disunited  from  him,  he  is  a  nothing,  which  can 
therefore  not  sin,  but  on  whose  forehead  there  rests  merely 
the  oppressive  delusion  of  sin,  in  order  to  lead  him  to  the 
true  God."3 

He  could  here  have  learned  something  from  his  favorite 
John,  though  he  would  not  listen  to  Paul:  "If  we  say  that 
we  have  no  sin,  we  deceive  ourselves,  and  the  truth  is  not 
in  us."  (1  John  i.  8).  But  he  preferred  to  adhere  to  the 
passages  in  John  which  affirm  that  the  one  united  with  God, 
who  truly  lives,  does  not  sin  any  more.  The  directness  of 
the  relation  between  Christ  and  the  Father,  which  appears 
especially  in  John's  Gospel,  had  with  him  the  force  of  the 
expression  of  the  relation  as  it  should  be  in  general  between 
God  and  man.  And  while  he  was  right  here,  he  erred  in 
supposing  that  what  man  should  he,  that  to  which  he  should 
be  purified  after  many  conflicts  and  by  union  with  the 

1  Anweisung  zum  seligen  Leben,  p.  155. 

8  Grundzüge  des  gegemoärtigen  Zeitalters,  p.  421.        3  Ibid. 


216 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Redeemer  ("for  it  hath  not  yet  appeared  what  we  shall  be"), 
was  already  present;  and  herein  he  again  showed  himself 
the  impractical  and  nnhistorical  idealist.  Yet  it  may  give  a 
certain  interest  to  follow  a  thinker  like  Fichte,  who  lived  at 
a  day  which  had  for  the  most  part  turned  away  from  the 
profound  fundamental  truths  of  Christianity,  and  to  see  how 
he  interpreted  Christianity  after  his  own  manner,  how  his 
language  became  Christian,  and  how,  without  being  compelled 
outwardly  by  any  authority, — to  which  he  would  never  have 
submitted, — he  was  reduced  to  give  honor  to  eternal  truth. 
And  though  much  that  Fichte  declared  to  be  Christianity  was 
still  controlled  by  scholastic  notions,  and  expressed  in  the 
language  of  the  schools,  w^e  nevertheless  feel  that  wre  are 
henceforth  fanned  by  a  milder  breeze  than  that  which  set  in 
so  sharply  and  piercingly  against  us  from  his  doctrine  of 
science. 

The  only  true  being,  the  principle  that  pervaded  his  doc- 
trine of  religion,  is  the  Absolute,  or  God.  But  this  absolute 
Being  not  only  exists,  but  does  not  remain  concealed  in  it- 
self; it  has  also  an  existence  here,  that  is,  a  revelation,  an 
expression  of  itself.  God  reveals  himself  in  us,  in  our  con- 
sciousness, and  it  is  only  the  much-divided  and  multiform 
world  that  draws  us  from  God;  but  we  should  comprehend 
the  Eternal  One  in  one  great  focus  of  our  spiritual  life.  We 
can  do  this  religiously  by  faith,  and  scientifically  by  idea. 
Our  finite  Ego  must  receive  in  itself  the  absolute  Ego  by 
faith  and  thought;  and  in  this  inward  connection  there  sub- 
sist salvation  and  eternal  life.  Fichte  speaks  simply  and 
comprehensibly  on  this  point  as  follows:  "Wilt  thou  behold 
God  as  he  is  in  himself,  face  to  face?  Do  not  seek  him  be- 
yond the  clouds,  for  thou  canst  find  him  wherever  thou  art. 
Look  at  the  life  of  his  devout  children,  and  thou  lookest 
at  him.  Surrender  thyself  to  him,  and  thou  wilt  find  him 
in  thy  breast."1 

As  we  formerly  observed  that  Fichte  designated  morality 
as  a  subordinate  matter,  he  meant  by  it  that  morality  which 
estimates  the  value  of  actions  more  according  to  their  out- 

1  Anweisung  zum  seligen  Leben,  p.  146. 


fichte's  view  of  religion. 


217 


ward  scope,  the  utility  which  they  serve  in  the  world,  etc. 
He  rightly  opposed  this  utilitarian  morality,  and  the  Phari- 
saism of  the  righteousness  of  works,  and  showed,  from  a  truly 
Protestant  standpoint,  how  everything  depends  on  the  inward 
disposition  with  which  we  act,  and  on  the  faith  by  which  we 
act.  Here,  he  was  not  so  far  from  Paul  as  he  seems  in 
other  cases  to  stand  aloof  from  him.  "Religion,"  says  he, 
"  is  not  a  mere  reverential  dreaming,  nor  an  independent 
work  that  can  he  carried  on  separately  from  other  work,  as 
on  certain  days  and  hours;  but  it  is  the  inward  spirit  which 
pervades  all  our  thinking  and  acting,  and  immerges  into  it- 
self. .  .  .  The  sphere  in  which  we  act  is  of  no  conse- 
quence. ...  To  him  who  has  only  a  lowly  calling,  this 
vocation  becomes  sanctified  by  religion,  and  receives  through 
it,  if  not  the  material,  at  least  the  form  of  higher  morality, 
to  which  nothing  more  belongs  than  that  we  should  perceive 
and  love  God's  will  toward  and  in  us.  Thus,  if  any  one  faith- 
fully till  his  field  or  carry  on  the  plainest  manual  labor 
in  this  faith,  he  is  higher  and  more  blessed  than  some  one 
(supposing  such  a  thing  possible)  who  should  bless  humanity 
for  thousands  of  years  without  this  faith." 1  Luther  had  said, 
in  a  perfectly  similar  way,  that  the  servant-girl  who  sweeps 
the  street  can  do  it  in  faith,  and  consequently  in  a  manner 
well-pleasing  to  God.  This  is  the  inward  morality  which 
Christianity  (in  positive  antithesis  to  ancient  heathendom) 
requires,  and  Protestantism  in  particular  requires  in  it;  and 
here  we  find  Fichte  on  the  right  ground. 

Let  us  take,  in  addition  to  these,  some  of  his  other  ex- 
pressions that  harmonize  perfectly  with  the  inward  nature  of 
the  gospel:  "Love  is  higher  than  all  reason;  it  is  even  the 
fountain  of  reason  and  the  root  of  reality,  the  only  creator 
of  life  and  of  time.  .  .  .  As  it  is  everywhere  the  source  of 
truth  and  certainty,  so  is  it  also  of  finished  truth  in  the  real 
man  and  his  life.  .  .  .  The  living  life  is  love,  and,  as  love, 
possesses  what  is  loved ;  and  it  is  eternally  one  and  the  same 

1  Anioeisung  zum  seligen  Leben,  p.  150.  His  expression  on  free-will 
in  his  Addresses  to  the  German  Nation  are  perfectly  Pauline. 


218 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


love,  though  it  is  comprised  in,  pervaded  by,  and  melted  and 
blended  with  it.  .  .  .  So  far  as  man  is  love — and  he  is  always 
this  in  the  root  of  his  life — he  remains  eternally  one,  true, 
and  incorruptible,  just  as  God  himself;  .  .  .  and  what  John 
says  is  not  a  bold  metaphor,  but  a  literal  truth:  'He  that 
dwelleth  in  love  dwelleth  in  God,  and  God  in  him.'  .  .  . 
Salvation  itself  consists  in  love  and  in  the  eternal  satis- 
faction of  love,  and  is  inaccessible  by  reflection;  the  idea  can 
only  express  it  negatively;  it  can  only  say  what  it  is  not. 
It  cannot  be  positively  described,  but  only  directly  felt.  Doubt 
makes  miserable,  for  it  drags  us  hither  and  thither,  and  spreads 
before  us  the  impenetrable  night  of  uncertainty,  in  which  we 
can  find  no  safe  path  to  tread.  The  religious  man  is  forever  re- 
lieved of  the  possibility  of  doubt  and  uncertainty.  He  knows 
every  moment  what  he  desires  and  what  he  should  desire; 
for  the  deepest  root  of  his  life,  —  his  will,  —  strikes  un- 
mistakably lower,  and  is  directly  from  Deity;  its  intimations 
are  infallible,  and  it  has  an  unerring  perception  of  what  its 
intimations  are.  At  every  moment  it  knows  certainly  that 
it  will  know  to  all  eternity  what  it  wishes  and  should  know; 
and  that  the  fountain  of  divine  love  opened  in  it  will  never 
be  exhausted,  but  will  insatiably  support  him,  and  lead  him 
eternally  forward.  It  is  the  root  of  his  existence;  having 
arisen  clearly  to  him,  his  eye  is  fastened  upon  it  with  inward 
love;  how  could  the  fountain  dry  up,  or  his  eye  turn  in 
another  direction?  Nothing  that  takes  place  around  him, 
alienates  him.  Whether  he  understands  it  or  not,  he  knows 
of  a  certainty  that  it  is  in  God's  world,  and  that  in  this  world 
there  can  be  nothing  which  is  not  designed  for  a  good  end. 
He  has  no  fear  of  the  future,  for  absolute  blessedness  leads 
him  eternally  forward  toward  it."1 

If  we  now  ask  how  Fichte  regarded  all  this  as  brought  to 
pass  by  Christianity,  we  shall  find  that  the  person  of  Jesus 
has  to  him  a  totally  different  meaning  from  what  it  had  to 
the  Rationalists.  He  does  not  see  in  him  simply  the  moral 
teacher  or  moral  example.  No,  just  that  being  one  with  God, 
as  Christ  expresses  it  in  John;  just  that  real  union  with  the 

1  Anweisung  zum  seligen  Leben,  pp.  288,  291,  303. 


ficiite's  VIEW  OF  CHRIST. 


210 


Father  which  the  Rationalists  would  remove  as  a  metaphysical 
formula  not  affecting  morality,  were  to  him  the  very  essence 
and  star  of  the  gospel.  It  was  on  this  account  that  he  be- 
came so  intimately  attached  to  John,  and  to  his  doctrine  of 
the  incarnate  Logos,  in  which  he  beheld  the  fullness  of  all 
religious  knowledge.  But  we  would  do  very  wrong  to  con- 
clude from  this  that  Fichte,  in  his  doctrine  of  Christ,  unites 
with  the  old  orthodox  doctrine  of  the  church.  What  the 
latter  regarded  as  a  historical  fact,  was  construed  by  Fichte 
as  a  deed  eternally  repeating  itself,  and  occurring  in  every 
religious  man.  Christ  was  to  him,  not  the  Redeemer  in  the 
old  sense,  but  only  the  representative  of  what  continually 
happens.  "  The  eternal  Word  becomes  flesh  at  all  times  and 
in  everybody,  without  exception,  who  is  vitally  aware  of  his 
unity  with  God,  and  really  and  actually  surrenders  his  whole 
individual  life  to  the  divine  life  in  him  ...  in  just  the 
same  way  as  takes  place  in  Jesus  Christ."1 

Fichte,  indeed,  confesses  that  the  perception  of  this  ab- 
solute unity  01  the  human  being  with  the  divine  did  not  take 
place  before  the  time  of  Jesus;  but  this,  in  his  opinion,  does 
not  affect  the  matter ;  for  it  is  a  merely  historical  observation 
of  but  little  moment.  "  If  one  is  united  with  God,"  says  he, 
"the  way  he  came  to  this  state  is  a  small  matter;  and  it 
would  be  a  very  useless  and  erroneous  employment,  instead 
of  living  in  the  condition  itself,  only  to  be  constantly  calling 
up  the  remembrance  of  the  way."2  But  yet  we  think  that 
very  much  depends  upon  knowing  this  way;  and  Fichte  him- 
self confesses,  that  all  those  living  since  the  time  of  Jesus 
who  have  become  united  with  God,  have  only  attained  this 
union  through  him  and  by  his  instrumentality;  indeed,  he 
candidly  admits,  that,  "to  the  end  of  time,  all  people  of 
understanding  will  bow  reverently  before  Jesus  of  Nazareth, 
and  the  more  all  people  are  themselves,  the  more  reverently 
will  they  acknowledge  the  exceeding  glory  of  this  great 
phenomenon."3  But  he  does  not  believe  that  Christ  himself 
attached  the  value  to  this  acknowledgment  which  the  church 

1  Anweisung  zum  seligen  Leben,  p.  166. 

2  Idem,  p.  173.       3  Idem,  p.  172. 
Vol.  IL— 15 


220 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


lays  upon  it.  He  thinks,  like  Herder,  that  if  Jesus  should 
return  to  the  world  as  a  human  individual,  he  would  be  per- 
fectly contented  to  find  only  Christianity  ruling  in  the  spirit 
of  man,  whether  men  praised  or  did  not  praise  his  merits. 
"For,"  says  he,  "the  very  least  that  might  be  expected  of 
a  man  who  lived  on  earth,  is  not  to  seek  his  own  honor,  but 
that  of  Him  who  had  sent  him." 

Fichte  was  perfectly  right  in  holding  that  Christ  did  not 
seek  this  honor  for  his  own  sake,  and  we  too  believe  that 
a  living  Christianity,  even  with  many  doctrinal  errors  on  the 
person  of  Christ,  yea,  even  with  a  partial  misconception  of 
his  personality,  is  better  than  the  most  orthodox  repeating 
of  "Lord,  Lord,"  without  the  true  spirit  and  right  feeling. 
But  Christ  and  Christianity,  the  person  and  the  thing,  history 
and  metaphysics,  cannot  be  so  violently  sundered  as  Fichte 
seems  to  suppose.1  Thus  was  love,  which  Fichte  himself  had 
beautifully  and  enthusiastically  placed  the  more  in  advance 
as  the  essential  of  all  religion  in  proportion  as  it  had  ac- 
quired supremacy  over  the  prejudice  of  the  understanding, 
authoritatively  compelled  to  turn  to  the  person  from  which 
it  sprang,  and  as  personal  love,  the  love  for  Christ,  to  be- 
come all  the  more  inward  and  fruitful. 

Fichte  undoubtedly  did  the  service  of  directing  attention  to 
the  nature  of  religion,  and  of  having  delivered  it  from  the 
bondage  of  mere  morality.  While  so  many,  and  even  orthodox 
Christians  among  the  number,  had  regarded  eternal  life  only 
as  future,  and  belonging  to  the  next  world,  and  though  even 
Kant  had  established  faith  in  God  and  immortality  on  the 
necessity  of  a  future  retribution,  Fichte  (in  perfect  harmony 
with  the  Scriptures)  made  eternal  life  to  consist  in  our  per- 
ceiving and  loving  God  even  here,  and  in  knowing  that  we 
are  attached  to  him  in  a  holy  communion.  This  living  in 
God  was  to  him,  even  in  his  early  period,  before  he  became 
overwhelmed  by  his  own  speculation,  the  safest  pledge  for  his 
better  future  in  later  years.  In  1790,  he  thus  wrote  from 
Leipzig  to  his  betrothed:  "Our  understanding  is  too  narrow 

1  This  arbitrary  separation  belongs  completely  to  the  standpoint  of 
Kantian  Rationalism. 


ficiite's  views  of  a  future  life. 


221 


for  Deity  to  dwell  in;  our  heart  alone  is  a  worthy  home  for 
him.   The  safest  means  to  be  convinced  of  a  life  after  death, 
is  to  so  lead  the  present  life  that  we  can  wish  it.  He  who 
feels  that,  if  there  is  a  God,  he  will  most  mercifully  look 
down  upon  him,  cannot  be  affected  by  any  arguments  against 
his  existence,  and  he  stands  in  need  of  none  for  it.    He  who 
has  made  such  great  sacrifice  for  virtue  that  he  can  expect 
remuneration  in  a  future  life,1  does  not  prove  and  believe 
the  existence  of  such  a  life, — he  feels  it.    My  affectionate 
partner,  for  this  span  of  life  and  for  eternity,  let  us  be 
strengthened  in  this  vocation,  not  by  arguments,  but  by  acts!"2 
In  his  Advice  for  a  Blessed  Life,  he  scorns  the  prospect 
of  a  subtilized,  sensuous  happiness  in  another  life,  because 
it  is  founded  on  egotism  and  personal    selfishness.  But 
God's  love  shall  destroy  selfishness,  and  fill  the  whole  heart; 
and  where  it  fills  the  heart,  it  is  even  here  the  source  of 
salvation.   The  question  does  not  depend  upon  the  circum- 
stances in  which  we  live  either  here  or  there;  God,  who  is 
to-day  what  he  will  be  forever,  will  bless  us  through  himself, 
and  hence  there  is  neither  here  nor  there  an  eternal  life  out- 
side of  him.    Fichte,  as  Schleiermacher  after  him,  has  shown 
that  there  can  also  be  such  an  immoral  and  irreligious  be- 
lief in  immortality,  as  seeks  only  itself,  and  not  God,  here- 
after.   "This  way  of  thinking,  laid  down  in  the  form  of  a 
prayer,"  says  Fichte,  "would  express  itself  in  this  manner: 
'Lord,  let  only  my  will  be  done,  in  all,  and  therefore  blessed, 
eternity;  and  for  this  Thou  shalt  have  Thine  in  this  brief 
and  weary  temporal  life.'    But  the  truly  pious  man  prays 
thus:  'Lord,  if  only  Thy  will  be  done,  mine  will  be  done 
through  it,  for  I  have  no  other  will  than  Thine.'" 3  We  shall 
hereafter  see  how  even  this  feeling  could  degenerate  into  a 
resignation  of  pride,  which  is  very  different  from  Christian 
resignation,  and  how  the  statement,  which  is  true  in  itself, 
that  eternal  life  must  begin  even  here,  was  so  perverted  as 
to  be  held  only  as  a  temporal  life.    In  opposition  to  the 

1  This  is  Kantianism,  but  mollified  by  the  introduction  of  feeling. 

2  Fichte's  Leben,  Vol.  I.  p.  123. 

3  Anweisung  zum  seligen  Leben,  p.  248. 


222 


HTSTORT  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


sluggishness  of  moral  sentiment,  in  which  the  great  portion 
of  Fichte's  contemporaries  had  certainly  sunken,  this  reference 
to  the  great  importance  of  the  present  life  had,  however, 
great  value,  particularly  when  the  impression  was  strengthened 
by  the  strong  personal  character  of  Fichte,  to  which  we  shall 
here  return  for  a  moment. 

With  all  the  exceptionable  roughness  and  angularity  in  his 
deportment,  we  cannot  deny  that  he  was  possessed  of  the 
higher  dignity  of  sentiment.  His  character  stands  before  us 
as  Protestant  and  reformatory,  not  only  in  the  department 
of  thought,  but  especially  in  that  of  life  and  morality.2  As 
he  strove,  as  a  university  professor,  to  restrain  the  coarse 
habits  of  student  life  (for  example,  to  put  an  end  to  duelling 
by  the  establishment  of  courts  of  honor),  so  was  he  one  of 
the  first  in  that  period  of  political  depression  who  attempted 
to  revive  the  prostrated  national  feeling  of  the  Germans,  and 
to  give  "spirit  and  hope  to  the  brokenhearted."  To  this 
end  he  directed  his  beautiful  Addresses  to  the  German  Nation, 
which  he  delivered  in  the  building  of  the  Academy  of  Science 
and  Art  in  the  Winter  of  1807 — 1808,  while  his  voice  was 
often  drowned  by  the  French  drums  that  were  beaten  through 
the  streets,  and  while  well-known  spies  appeared  in  the 
lecture-room.2  The  report  was  even  circulated  through  the 
city  a  number  of  times,  that  he  had  been  seized  and  carried 
off  by  the  enemy.  It  is  not  our  purpose  here  to  enter  par- 
ticularly into  the  import  of  those  Addresses,  nor  to  follow 
further  his  active  interest,  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  in 
the  German  War  of  Liberation.  We  would  only  call  attention 
to  them  for  the  purpose  of  completing  our  picture.  Fichte 
expected  great  advantages  from  a  better  education,  which 
would  not  only  apply  the  command  of  virtue  outwardly  to 

1  His  philosophy  was  called  by  Fr.  Schlegel  the  most  elaborate 
Protestantism;  see  Biogr.,  p.  314.  That  Fichte  himself  believed  in  the 
further  development  of  Protestantism,  of  which  he  regarded  himself  as 
a  powerful  organ,  see  Grundzüge  des  gegenwärtigen  Zeitalters,  p.  412: 
"The  universal  part  taken  by  the  ecclesiastical  Reformation  has  not 
yet  terminated." 

2  Biographie,  p.  529. 


ficiite's  final  labors  and  death. 


223 


man,  but  strengthen  his  will  by  love.  ' "  The  dawn  of  the  new 
world,"  he  thus  says,  "  has  already  begun,  and  even  gilds  the 
tops  of  the  mountains,  and  prefigures  the  coming  day." 

Fichte  did  not  survive  this  desired  day  of  freedom.  He 
could  only  labor  as  a  professor  for  a  short  time  in  the  newly 
established  University  of  Berlin.  In  the  Spring  of  1808,  when 
he  was  intending  to  begin  his  philosophical  lectures  in  it,  he 
was  attacked  by  a  dangerous  disease,  from  which,  however, 
he  recovered.  After  this,  many  interruptions  were  caused  by 
the  preparations  for  the  war.  In  the  Winter  term  of  1813, 
however,  he  resumed  his  lectures,  but  the  hospital  fever 
prostrated  his  wife  upon  a  sick  bed  in  1814.  The  disease 
was  produced  by  the  Christian  and  pious  fidelity  with  which 
this  excellent  woman,  chiefly  at  her  husband's  suggestion, 
attended  upon  the  sick  soldiers  in  the  hospital.  Fichte  now 
devoted  himself  to  caring  for  her  with  the  greatest  self-sac- 
rifice, and  with  extreme  anxiety.  One  evening,  having  taken 
his  departure  from  the  unconscious  sick  woman  to  go  to  his 
lecture,  and,  with  the  greatest  self-control,  having  read  two 
successive  hours  on  the  most  abstruse  subjects,  he  returned 
with  the  thought  of  perhaps  finding  her  dead,  when  the 
crisis  had  a  favorable  issue,  and  the  physicians  had  hope  for 
the  first  time.  His  wife  was  saved,  but  it  cost  her  husband's 
life.  Even  on  the  next  day  he  felt  very  unwell,  and  there 
was  no  mistaking  the  character  of  his  sickness.  Having  re- 
ceived the  news  of  Bliicher's  crossing  the  Rhine,  and  the 
rapid  march  of  the  Allies  into  France,  his  spirit  was  once 
more  aroused  to  bright  hopes,  and  his  joy  at  the  movement 
became  interwoven  with  the  delirium  of  fever,  so  that  he 
thought  that  he  was  himself  taking  part  in  the  battle.  Had 
not  his  whole  life  been  a  battle,  with  the  sword  of  the  in- 
tellect in  his  hand?  Shortly  before  his  death,  his  son  brought 
medicine  to  him,  when  he  made  the  significant  reply :  "  Lay  it 
aside;  I  need  no  more  medicine;  I  feel  that  I  have  recovered!" 

Fichte  died  on  the  night  of  the  27th  of  January,  1814, 
before  reaching  his  fifty-second  year,  but  in  undiminished 
physical  and  intellectual  strength.  His  wife  survived  him 
five  years,  and,  as  she  had  arranged  it,  was  buried  at  her 


224 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


husband's  feet,  in  the  cemetery  before  the  Oranienburg  Gate 
in  Berlin.  The  spot  is  designated  by  a  high  obelisk,  bearing 
the  following  inscription,  from  Daniel  (xii.  3):  "And  they 
that  be  wise  shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament; 
and  they  that  turn  many  to  righteousness,  as  the  stars  for 
ever  and  ever." 

How  far  these  prophetic  words  may  be  applied  to  Fichte's 
labors  as  a  philosophical  instructor,  depends  entirely  on  the 
judgment  we  pass  on  the  moral  and  religious  import  of  his 
system.  As  we  have  seen,  it  had  different  stages.  It  first 
appeared  only  as  the  consistent  continuation  of  Kant;  then 
it  manifested  itself  as  complete  idealism,  gloomy,  ghost-like, 
and  clouded  by  the  suspicion  of  atheism;  but  finally,  the 
setting  star  turned  with  bright  splendor  toward  Christianity, 
and,  though  not  in  the  form  of  a  full  and  unreserved  evan- 
gelical confession,  as  we  have  seen  with  other  philosophers, 
yet  in  a  philosophical  way  of  thinking  related  to  the  Chris- 
tian sphere.  And  just  this  Christian  knowledge  became  to 
some  the  transition  to  simple  faith,  to  that  righteousness  of 
which  the  Prophet  speaks  in  the  passage  cited.  But  if,  as 
we  have  already  seen,  Fichte  must  be  estimated  not  only  as 
a  philosophical  author  and  a  university  professor,  but  also 
as  a  man  of  life,  we  should  not  forget,  as  a  gratifying  feature 
of  his  domestic  life,  that,  in  the  house  of  the  celebrated  philos- 
opher, every  day,  without  exception,  was  concluded  by  an 
appropriate  and  solemn  religious  service,  in  which  the  serv- 
ants were  accustomed  to  take  part.  After  some  verses  of 
a  hymn  had  been  sung,  with  the  accompaniment  of  the  piano, 
the  head  of  the  family  made  some  remarks  on  a  passage 
from  the  New  Testament,  especially  from  John,  his  favorite 
Evangelist.  In  these  lectures  he  looked  less  at  moral  appli- 
cations and  rules  of  life  that  at  purifying  the  spirit  from 
the  distractions  and  vanities  of  the  common  work  of  life, 
and  at  elevating  it  to  incorruptible  things.  The  beneficial 
influence  wrhich  this  exerted  upon  the  members  of  the  family, 
and  upon  those  who  only  visited  it,  is  attested  by  the  ex- 
perience of  Fichte's  own  son,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for 
the  most  of  the  information  concerning  his  father's  life. 


LECTURE  XII. 


SCHELLIN G  AND  HIS  NATURAL  PHILOSOPHY.  —  PANTHEISM  AND 
PSEUDO-ORTHODOXY. —  F.  H.  JACOBI,  AND  THE  RELIGION  OF 
THE  SPIRIT  IN  OPPOSITION  TO  ORTHODOXY  AND  SPECULA- 
TION. 

The  thinking  mind  cannot  confine  itself  to  Fichte's  idealism, 
with  which  we  were  employed  in  the  last  lecture.  The  Ego 
could  not  persist  in  its  retirement  within  itself  any  more  than 
a  man  can  long  keep  from  stifling  by  holding  his  breath. 
The  reality  of  a  world,  the  actual  existence  of  a  creation 
outside  of  us,  was  asserted  with  such  vigor  that  the  opinion 
that  everything  is  only  imagination  could  not  long  stand  the 
test.  But  Fichte's  idealism  could  as  little  pass  by  without 
leaving  any  traces  behind  it  as  it  could  endure  permanently, 
and  its  true  and  striking  characteristic,  the  transformation 
of  common  reality  by  the  inward  act  of  the  spirit,  remained 
as  clear  gain.  For  after  all,  in  spite  of  all  the  reality  of 
the  world,  all  the  abundance  of  its  forms,  and  the  continual 
change  in  its  phenomena,  that  it  is  man  who  looks  at  them 
with  human  eyes,  while  it  vanishes  in  a  shapeless  mass  be- 
fore the  brute,  that  our  Ego  is  certainly  reflected  in  the 
world  as  well  as  the  world  in  our  Ego,  so  that  it  is  we  who 
first  imprint  upon  nature  the  stamp  of  the  divine,  in  order 
that  we  may  divine,  through  the  husk  of  the  sensuous,  the 
kernel  of  the  supersensuous, — these  are  intellectual  ex- 
periences that  can  never  be  taken  back,  and  bestow  upon 
life  itself  a  higher  charm,  in  opposition  to  a  spiritless  and 
thoughtless  objectivity,  which  views  life  purely  externally, 


22G 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


though  in  vigorous  sensuousness,  yet  without  all  higher  flight, 
and  without  placing  it  in  relation  to  our  inward  nature. 

Therefore,  though  the  mind,  now  awakened  from  its  ideal- 
istic dream,  returned  again  to  external  nature  and  its  phe- 
nomena, nature  was  no  more  to  it  a  dead  machine  and  only 
propelled  from  without;  it  now  knew  a  spiritually  living 
nature,  one  in  which  God  docs  not  simply  take  part  from  time 
to  time  in  order  to  perform  miracles,  but  in  which  he  ex- 
presses himself  every  moment,  which  he  essentially  pervades, 
fills,  and  vitalizes.  In  a  word,  God  and  the  world,  spirit  and 
nature,  life  without  us,  within  us  and  above  us,  should  no 
more  be  confined  within  narrow  bounds,  and  appear  to  be 
separated  simply  from  each  other,  as  previously,  but  should 
be  placed  before  our  consciousness  in  a  living  relation  and 
personality. 

This  was  the  problem  of  the  new  age,  to  the  solution  of 
which,  Schelling,  the  younger  contemporary  of  Fichte,  un- 
questionably contributed  most.  As  Fichte  had  first  united 
with  Kant,  so  did  Schelling  first  connect  with  Fichte,  whom 
he  had  heard  in  Jena,  and  with  whom  he  was  affiliated  for 
a  time;1  but  he  soon  departed  from  that  idealism  which  re- 
gards the  world  only  as  the  reflection  of  our  spirit.  It  is 
not  our  eye  which  springs  from  the  world,  but  it  is  the 
world  which  looks  at  us  with  its  animated  eyes;  at  us,  in 
whom  it  recognizes  its  own  essence,  and  in  whom,  as  if  be- 
thinking itself,  it  finds  its  own  whereabouts.  The  essence 
of  nature  is  the  spirit  itself;  and  though  still  a  slumbering 
and  dreaming  spirit  in  the  lower  stages  of  development,  it 
awakens  more  and  more,  until  it  finally  comes  to  self-con- 
sciousness in  man.  Nature  and  spirit  are,  accordingly,  not 
separate  things,  but  only  the  poles  of  one  and  the  same  life, 
which  appears  here  as  moving  and  there  as  moved,  here  as 
creating  and  there  as  created,  here  as  free  and  there  as 
bound.  That  which  vitalizes  and  moves  this  one  great  uni- 
versal organism  is  the  World- Soul,  wrhich  is  reflected  in  our 
soul,  the  human  soul.    Man  is  the  world  in  miniature  (micro  - 


1  Compare  the  Correspondence  already  cited. 


RELATION  OF  SCIIELLING'S  PHILOSOPHY  TO  RELIGION.  227 

cosm).  The  world  is  repeated  in  him,  as  in  him  God  per- 
ceives himself  as  God,  the  World- Soul  in  the  human  soul. 

These  disconnected  propositions  suffice  to  show  us  how 
Schelling  opposed  the  spiritually  dead  observation  of  nature, 
which  prevailed  among  the  Rationalists  as  well  as  the  ortho- 
dox, and  which  was  a  general  peculiarity  of  the  early  period,  by 
his  living  and  poetic  observation  of  nature,  and  by  his  fullness 
of  the  anticipations  and  relations  that  are,  and  will  ever  remain, 
an  enigma  to  a  barren  understanding,  though  they  continu- 
ally press  themselves  upon  the  notice  of  the  spiritually-aroused 
man.  Here  lies  the  merit  of  this  philosophy.  Poets  and 
artists  can  most  easily  coincide  with  it.  Even  natural  philos- 
ophy may  be  willing  to  enter  into  friendly  relations  with  it, 
although  the  sober  inquirer  will  not  be  so  easily  induced  to 
look  through  speculative  presumptions,  but  will  continually 
assert  a  solid  experience  and  observation  in  opposition  to 
natural  fiction. 

But  what  is  the  position  of  this  philosophy  toward  religion, 
morality,  Christianity,  and  Protestantism?  This  is  a  question 
of  deep  concern  to  us,  but  its  decision  is  extremely  difficult. 
On  one  hand,  it  seems  to  be  a  gain  for  religion,  for  instead 
of  a  God  standing  merely  above  and  outside  of  the  world, 
there  is  established  a  God  in  the  world,  who  not  only  created 
us  and  cares  for  us,  but  in  whom  we  live,  and  move,  and  have 
our  being.  There  may  also  be  for  us  religious  men,  states 
of  mind  in  which  it  is  a  great  advantage  to  us,  even  in  the 
midst  of  this  visible  world  that  surrounds  us,  to  feel  so  near 
to  God's  heart  that  our  own  life  appears  to  us  only  as  a 
pulsation  of  the  great  World-Soul  moving  everything,  and 
that  we,  like  a  drop  in  the  sea,  lose  ourselves  in  the  One 
and  All,  and  wish  for  nothing  more  longingly  than  to  be  ab- 
sorbed in  it.  But  if  we  look  at  these  states  of  mind  closely, 
they  are  rather  poetical  than  religious,  and  are  not  those 
which  Christianity  and  the  Old  and  New  Testament  Scriptures 
chiefly  inculcate  in  us;  for  even  the  Bible  makes  us  ac- 
quainted with  a  God  who  is  not  very  far  from  any  one  of 
us,  though  the  difference  between  God  and  the  world,  and 
the  Creator  and  the  creature,  is  most  distinctly  defined;  and 


228 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


just  the  sense  of  God's  holiness,  which  is  nourished  by  the 
feeling  of  distance,  between  the  Eternal  One  and  finite 
creatures,  prevents  that  natural  confidence  by  which  we  seem 
to  ourselves  as  the  mere  thoughts  of  God,  the  beams  of  his 
glory,  the  breath  of  his  being.  In  short,  this  is  pantheism, 
which  can  never  permanently  harmonize  with  Christian  think- 
ing, though  it  has  appeared  at  different  periods  even  in  the 
Christian  world,  and  is  more  sharply  defined  by  the  philos- 
ophy of  nature.  It  is  the  doctrine  of  the  All- One,  which  is 
now  conceived  as  God  and  now  as  the  world,  and  therefore 
does  not  lead  to  any  true  worship  of  God,  but  passes  off 
into  that  poetical  enthusiasm  for  nature  which  constitutes 
the  foundation  of  heathen  worship. 

On  this  point  let  us  hear  the  testimony  of  a  celebrated 
German  theologian,  who  committed  himself  for  a  time  to 
Schelling's  system,  but  renounced  it  after  perceiving  this  very 
fact.  Tzschirner  speaks  of  his  acquaintance  with  this  philos- 
ophy as  follows :  "  I  must  confess  that  the  universal  life  which 
it  breathes  into  dead  nature,  and  communicates  to  suns  and 
planets  as  to  the  worm  and  to  the  plant,  and  the  union 
which  it  establishes  between  the  infinite  and  the  finite,  have 
strangely  attracted  me.  Physics  had  taught  me  to  regard 
the  heavenly  bodies  only  as  masses  that  move  lifelessly  by 
the  law  of  gravity,  and  probably  only  serve,  just  as  our 
planet,  as  a  dwelling-place  for  living  beings  of  different  kinds. 
But  the  philosophy  of  nature  animated  these  masses,  and 
I  looked  above  more  gladly  to  the  stars,  and  felt  myself  a 
friend  to  them  in  the  thought  that  in  them,  as  in  me,  the 
fullness  of  life,  although  in  infinitely  higher  potencies,  and 
the  consciousness  of  their  creative  power  and  their  glad 
course,  dwell  in  the  heavenly  spheres.  Kant's  criticism  had 
set  a  special,  defining  boundary  between  the  sensuous  and 
the  supersensuous,  and  had  taken  from  me  sight  and  knowl- 
edge, granting  me  only  a  faith  in  the  divine,  which  it  re- 
moved far  beyond  the  scope  of  my  knowledge.  But  the 
natural  philosophy  threw  down  the  partition-wall  between 
the  sensuous  and  supersensuous,  united  heaven  and  earth, 
and  taught  me  to  behold  the  infinite  in  the  finite.  Kant's 


tzschirner's  criticism  of  schelling's  philosophy.  229 

criticism  had  dissolved  mc  into  a  double  being,  placed  reason 
and  sensation  in  antagonism  and  declared  an  eternal  and  painful 
conflict  of  duty  with  inclination  for  the  destiny  of  my  earthly 
existence.  The  natural  philosophy  promised  me  the  union  of 
what  was  separated.  It  said,  the  spiritual  and  the  sensuous 
are  one ;  the  body  is  the  corporeal  spirit,  and  the  soul  is  the 
spiritualized  body;  reason  and  sense  are  only  different  ex- 
pressions of  one  and  the  same  force ;  and  your  destiny  is  not 
to  be  sundered  from  your  own  self,  but  to  live  in  peace  and 
unity  with  yourself  and  nature.  The  philosophers  of  all 
periods  had  taught  me  to  distinguish  reason  from  imagination, 
the  realm  of  truth  from  that  of  poetry,  and  had  warned  me, 
if  I  would  find  the  truth,  not  to  follow  the  guidance  of  the 
imagination,  nor  mix  its  fancies  with  the  ideas  of  reason.  The 
natural  philosophy  combined  reason  and  imagination  in  one 
faculty,  the  faculty  of  beholding  the  infinite,  and  brought 
poetry  and  philosophy  into  the  most  intimate  connection.  .  .  . 
But  this  poetical  state  of  mind  soon  vanished;  barren  rest 
again  entered,  and  I  sought  to  grasp  the  meaning  of  this 
philosophy  clearly  and  plainly. 

"Then  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  a  beautiful  enchantment  was 
suddenly  broken,  when  I  did  not  see  myself  surrounded  any 
longer  by  lovely  fictions,  but  only  by  indistinct  and  airy  forms, 
without  consistency  and  support;  and  where  I  had  perceived 
a  joyous  life,  there  now  yawned  an  abyss  which  threatened 
to  swallow  up  everything  sublime  and  glorious.  On  careful 
examination,  I  found  that  the  natural  philosophy  was  devoid 
of  perspicuity  and  solid  proof,  and  that  it  leads  to  saddest 
results.  What  alienated  me  most  from  it  was  the  hopeless 
results  with  which  it  terminated.  ...  No  philosophy  had 
promised  me  more,  and  none  had  given  less.  It  wears  a 
lovely  and  brilliant  robe,  but  if  we  take  off  the  beautiful 
covering,  we  behold  a  vacant  and  faded  form,  the  very  sight 
of  which  we  cannot  endure.  The  philosophy  which  speaks  so 
much  of  the  contemplation  of  the  infinite,  of  the  revelations 
of  God,  and  of  a  blessed  life  in  the  Absolute,  ends  with  the 
result,  that  everything  which  exists  and  occurs,  even  including 
man,  with  his  thoughts,  resolutions,  and  acts,  is  the  necessary 


230 


IIISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


effect  of  a  necessary  vital  force,  which  .  .  .  unremittingly 
conceives,  brings  forth,  and  transforms  its  productions,  in  order 
to  bring  forth  new  ones  from  its  exhaustless  fullness.  This 
is  the  result  of  the  philosophy  of  nature,  by  which  it  takes 
away  everything  that  gives  dignity,  purpose,  and  meaning  to 
life, — the  idea  of  Deity,  of  immortality,  of  freedom,  and  of 
morality.  Do  not  be  deceived  by  devout  language,  .  .  . 
by  the  frequent  mention  of  God  and  his  revelations.  The 
God  of  these  natural  philosophers  is  the  universe ;  there  dwell 
in  him  only  life,  consciousness  and  productive  power,  but 
no  holy  will,  goodness,  and  righteousness.  .  .  .  The  blessed 
life  of  this  philosophy  consists  only  in  the  exaltation  of  the 
spirit,  which,  forgetful  of  itself,  perceives  and  contemplates 
universal  life;  the  idea  of  personal  immortality  is  totally 
foreign  to  it.  .  .  .  Nor  does  it  even  recognize  any  free 
acts  of  man;  everything  is  to  it  appearance,  the  announce- 
ment of  the  Absolute,  while  that  which  appears  under  a 
thousand  forms,  and  which  it  calls  freedom  and  morality,  is 
only  life  in  increased  greatness.  .  .  .  Its  infinitude  is  only 
a  magnified  finiteness,  and  what  we  call  the  supersensuous, 
because  it  never  comes  within  the  circle  of  experience, — 
Deity,  freedom,  immortality, — we  seek  in  vain  in  this  system."1 
We  shall  not  decide  how  far  Tzschirner's  criticism  is  fully 
justified,  how  far  it  rests  upon  a  perfectly  correct  view  of 
the  system,  how  far  his  conclusions  would  be  conceded  by 
the  author  of  the  system,  and  how  far  the  critic's  opinion  was 
affected  by  a  certain  inability  to  transpose  himself  from  an 
old  and  customary  thinking  to  a  thoroughly  new  one.  But 
it  is  certain  that  the  impression  that  this  philosophy  pro- 
duced on  one  thinking  and  sober  theologian,  is  the  same 
which  it  has  made  on  many  other  conscientious  Christian 
teachers  and  preachers.  The  Kantian  philosophy,  and  the 
Rationalism  proceeding  from  it,  had,  with  all  its  negation, 
firmly  maintained,  as  the  essential  ideas  of  religion,  just 
those  ideas  of  God,  freedom,  and  immortality  which  Tzschirner 
had  so  painfully  missed  in  this  natural  philosophy;  with  all 
their  barrenness  of  doctrine,  they  had  nevertheless  established 

1  Briefe  über  Jleinhard's  Geständnisse,  pp.  47  ff.,  and  57  ff. 


SCHELLING'S  philosophy  unscriptural.  231 

themselves  upon  this  foundation,  which  the  natural  philos- 
ophy now  drew  away  from  its  disciples.  And  what  did  it 
give  in  return?  At  the  first  look,  much.  The  natural  philos- 
ophy seemed  even  desirous  of  restoring  the  old  ecclesiastical 
faith  neglected  by  the  Rationalists,  and  was  even  saluted  by 
many  as  the  resuscitator  of  positive  Christianity.  People  now 
were  heard  to  speak  of  an  incarnation  of  God,  of  a  Trinity, 
of  a  fall,  and  of  redemption.  Even  the  doctrine  of  the  devil 
was  again  restored  to  honor  by  theologians  who  adhered  to 
this  philosophy;1  and  as  people  spoke  of  a  becoming  God, 
so  did  they  also  speak  of  a  suffering  God.  There  was,  in 
general,  as  free  a  use  of  exuberant  expressions  as  of  violent 
thrusts  at  shallow  Rationalism.  Thus  the  old  orthodox  be- 
lievers appeared  to  receive  in  the  new  philosophy  a  vigorous 
ally,  and  Mysticism,  long  derided  as  nonsense,  seemed  to  wish 
to  raise  its  head  more  gloriously  than  ever. 

But  if  we  look  more  closely  at  what  this  philosophy  under- 
stood by  those  formulas,  we  shall  soon  be  convinced  that  it 
was  neither  the  doctrine  of  the  Reformers  and  of  the  ecclesi- 
astical symbols,  nor  that  of  the  early  Church  Fathers,  nor, 
finally,  that  of  the  Scriptures  themselves;  but  we  meet  even 
here  again  with  that  process  of  the  self- sundering  and  re- 
union of  God  in  nature  which  is  now  repeated  in  history, 
and  finds  in  Christianity  a  symbolical  expression.  The  in- 
flexible and  firm  doctrines  of  the  church  are  now  recast  into 
plastic  images  that  men  can  twist  and  shape  as  they  please, 
and  to  which  they  can  apply  now  this  and  now  that  mean- 
ing. Here  again  a  more  ingenious  play  is  granted  the  imagi- 
nation, without  the  understanding  and  the  heart,  the  real 
supporters  of  religious  life,  acquiring  a  strong  support  and 
direction,  and  a  lasting  satisfaction.  As  in  the  first  Christian 
centuries  the  Gnostics  exhausted  themselves  in  devising  the 
strangest  theories  on  the  origin  of  the  world  and  the  in- 
carnation of  God,  so  do  we  find  here  an  ingenious  philo- 
sophical, though  less  fantastic,  myth  on  the  development  of 
the  world,  which  evidently  calls  to  mind  Jacob  Boehme,  from 
whom  Schelling  derived  most  advantage. 

1  Daub,  in  his  Judas  Ischarioth. 


232 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Schölling  distinguishes  five  periods  or  ages  of  the  world  in 
history.  "The  first  age  of  the  world  is  the  golden  one,  the 
period  of  blessed  indecision,  when  there  was  neither  good  nor 
evil,  and  when  man,  as  a  natural  being,  dreamed  away  his 
time  in  unconscious  innocence.  Then  followed,  second,  the 
period  when  gods  and  heroes  ruled,  the  time  of  nature's 
omnipotence.  But  this  degenerated,  third,  into  a  period  when 
fate  ruled,  a  time  of  apostasy  and  dissension,  which  con- 
tinued until  God  revealed  himself  after  his  own  heart  and 
love.  God  had  to  become  man,  in  order  that  man  might 
again  come  to  Gocl.  And  thus,  fourth,  there  began  with  the 
incarnation  of  God  in  Christ  a  new  kingdom,  in  which  the 
divine  Spirit  is  ever  more  realized;  and  fifth,  at  the  end  of 
this  period,  fate  is  transformed  to  prophecy,  all  evil  is  over- 
come, and  God  is  realized  All  in  All." 

In  these  words  we  certainly  listen  to  a  language  that  has 
a  Biblical  and  ecclesiastical  sound,  and  even  actually  calls  up 
Christian  truths,  which  were  foreign  to  the  spirit  of  the  day, 
and  to  the  fundamental  truth,  that,  as  Schelling  himself  ex- 
presses it,  God  became  man  that  man  might  become  divine. 
If  we  look  more  closely,  Schelling's  incarnation  of  God  is 
nothing  more  than  God  first  coming  to  self-consciousness  in 
man.  God  is  to  him  not  that  Father  to  whom  Christ  bids 
us  pray  in  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  whom  Paul  calls  a  Father 
over  all  his  children  in  heaven  and  earth,  nor  the  Father 
who,  before  the  foundation  of  the  world  was  laid,  chose  in 
Christ,  of  his  own  free  mercy,  humanity  for  his  possession. 
No,  the  one  who  is  called  Father  by  Schelling  is  nothing 
less  than  that  dark,  unconscious  primeval  Cause,  or  rather 
causelessness,  of  all  things,  who  first  perceives  himself  in 
the  Son,  and  first  comes  to  consciousness  through  man;  in 
fact  he  is  a  gloomy,  paternal  face,  a  Saturn  who  devours  his 
own  children,  and  not  a  God-Father  who  loved  his  children 
even  before  they  came  into  existence.  God  the  Son  is  the 
self-revelation  and  self- development  of  the  Father;  he  is  the 
divine  understanding,  in  which  God  first  perceives  his  own 
nature;  and  as  this  development  of  God  again  returns  in 
multiplied  forms  to  itself,  so  God  is  God, — that  is,  Spirit. 


schelling's  view  of  the  PERSON  OF  CHRIST.  233 

According  to  Schölling,  God  is  the  Alpha  and  the  Omega, 
the  first  and  the  last;  but  it  is  as  the  Omega  that  he  is 
the  true  God,  the  one  who  has  only  then  become  God. 
Schelling  thus  makes  his  God  labor  through  the  whole  alpha- 
bet of  self-development  until  he  reaches  to  his  complete 
existence.  This  is  the  secret  of  the  Trinity,  in  the  sense  of 
this  system  of  natural  philosophy. 

How  does  the  case  stand  with  the  person  of  Christ?  As 
in  Fichte  so  also  in  Schelling,  the  historical  Christ,  Jesus 
of  Nazareth,  as  he  has  lived  and  taught  as  man,  is  not  the 
great  essential  of  Christianity,  but  God  universally  come  to 
consciousness  in  man.  The  incarnation  of  God,  according  to 
Schelling's  own  words,  is  not  something  which  has  once  taken 
place  (empirical),  but  an  incarnation  from  eternity  (ideal), 
and  strictly  one  and  the  same  with  the  mystery  of  nature. 
Schelling  grants  that  God  has  become  most  perfectly  self- 
conscious  in  the  historical  Christ,  for  no  one  before  him  has 
revealed  the  infinite  in  such  a  way ;  but  he  will  by  no  means 
concede  that  the  idea  of  Christianity  is  fully  dependent  on 
this  individuality;  for,  without  this  historical  ground,  this 
idea  has  to  him  the  same  importance  as  a  metaphysical  truth, 
as  it  has  with  Fichte.  But  when  Schelling  speaks  further 
of  a  suffering  God,  it  soon  becomes  perceptible  that  he  means 
some  one  altogether  different  from  what  Zinzendorf  does, 
when  he  speaks  of  a  crucified  God  and  of  the  Creators 
scars.  Schelling's  suffering  God  is  nothing  more  than  the 
self-development  of  God  which  is  to  succeed  conflicts  and 
birth-pangs.  Thus  the  early  Manichaeans  had  called,  but  only 
sensuously  and  fantastically,  the  suffering  of  nature,  the  death 
of  the  vegetable  world,  and  similar  metamorphoses,  the 
suffering  Jesus  (Jesus  patibilis).  But  if  Schelling's  view  of 
Christ  be  correct,  we  would  ask,  in  the  interest  of  ecclesi- 
astical life,  whether  the  church  had  not  better  unite  with 
the  Rationalist  of  the  Kantian  school,  who  says  coldly  and 
frankly:  KI  cannot  feel  at  home  in  your  dogmas  of  the  in- 
carnation of  God,  of  the  atonement,  etc.,  but  prefer  to  ad- 
here to  the  simple  doctrines  of  God,  virtue,  immortality,  and 
the  sublime  and  exalted  truths  which  Jesus  has  taught  in  con- 


234 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


nection  with  them,"  than  to  unite  with  the  pantheist  who, 
under  cover  of  an  almost  excessive  orthodoxy,  removes  just 
that  which  Rationalism  had  hitherto  retained? 

Apart  from  the  ignoble  character  of  such  deception,  this 
doctrine  is  deprived  of  all  moral  fruitfulness,  for  it  lays  claim 
to  man's  speculative  head,  but  not  to  his  heart  and  will. 
This  philosophy  is  thus  distinguished  from  the  earlier  Mysti- 
cism, to  which  it  bore  a  resemblance  in  other  respects: 
Mysticism,  where  it  transferred  history  to  the  inward  life  of 
man,  had  principally  in  view  practical  holiness,  and  in  this 
sense  it  spoke  of  a  Christ  being  born  in  us,  of  a  dying  with 
him,  and  of  a  rising  in  him,  while  speculation  takes  cogni- 
zance of  natural  events,  which  underlie  the  law  of  necessity ; 
and  though  it  will  not  allow  that  it  destroys  moral  freedom, 
but  rather  first  substitutes  true  freedom  for  false,  it  cannot 
be  denied  that  the  impulse  to  know  and  explain  the  mysteries 
of  all  life  and  growth,  far  predominates  over  the  impulse  to 
improve  the  disposition  and  life  of  men,  and  to  develop  a 
more  worthy  existence.1  Here  Schelling's  philosophy  differs 
from  its  Kantian,  and  especially  its  Fichtian  predecessor,  and 
here  too  its  position  toward  Protestantism  is  different.  The 
division  of  the  church  into  wise  and  simple  believers  (Eso- 
terics and  Exoterics)  is  totally  foreign  to  Christianity,  and 
especially  Protestant  Christianity.  A  language  which  only 
the  initiated  understand,  and  only  outwardly  conforms  to  the 
language  of  the  weak  and  the  babes,  is  far  from  being  the 
language  of  the  Reformers,  —  of  Luther  and  Zwingli.  But 
Schelling's  philosophy,  if  compared  only  with  the  systems  of 
Kant  and  Fichte,  presents  a  much  less  Protestant  character 
than  those  two.  Kant  and  Fichte,  with  all  their  deviations 
from  the  orthodox  theological  system  of  the  Protestant 
church,  stand  fully  on  Protestant  ground ;  indeed,  they  employ 
a  certain  Protestant  roughness,  and  carry  with  them  a  moral 

1  Philosophy,  as  such,  certainly  has  to  deal  with  knowledge;  and 
that  should  not  be  raised  as  an  objection  to  it.  But  when  Christian 
theology,  which  has  to  do  with  the  practical  religion  of  the  gospel,  merely 
consists  in  this  philosophy,  the  case  becomes  quite  different;  therefore 
Schleiermacher  proposed  a  separation  at  the  right  time. 


SALUTARY  INFLUENCE  OF  SCIIELLING'S  PIIILOSOPHY.  235 

sharpness,  a  corrosive  and  critical  salt,  while  the  natural 
philosophy,  in  the  poetical  twilight  where  it  conceals  itself, 
can  be  very  easily  employed  by  Catholics  in  support  of  their 
doctrine,  and  even  has  been  thus  actually  used  by  them. 
The  Catholic  ,  tendency  in  art,  of  which  we  will  speak  here- 
after, found  its  chief  support  in  this  poetical,  pantheistic  view 
of  the  world. 

But  notwithstanding  all  this,  we  would  not  be  blind  to  the 
importance  of  the  natural  philosophy,  nor  charge  the  abuses 
committed  in  connection  with  it,  and  the  playing  at  hide-and- 
seek  with  ecclesiastical  forms,  upon  all  those  who  made  use 
of  it  to  establish  their  own  theological  views.  Much  self- 
deception  and  self-persuasion  might  very  easily  arise  in  in- 
dividual minds.  And  apart  from  all  this,  it  cannot  be  denied 
that  the  thorough  perception  and  treatment  of  everything  that 
has  life,  by  which  the  later  science  is  distinguished,  received 
its  impetus  from  this  natural  philosophy,  though  much  stood 
in  need  of  sifting.  Spirit  and  life  came  through  it  into  the 
realm  of  nature,  art,  history,  and  even  of  theology;  for  its 
directing  attention  once  more  to  the  profound  importance  of 
the  church,  of  its  doctrine,  and  of  its  worship,  remains  a 
great  advantage.  It  no  more  passed  for  narrowness  and  a 
want  of  philosophy  when  people  spoke  of  the  mysteries  of 
faith  heartily,  reverentially,  and  enthusiastically;  rather,  the 
paltriness  and  narrowness  of  the  so-called  philosophy  of  the 
sound  human  understanding  became  constantly  more  apparent. 
People  again  dug  deeply,  and  did  not  stand  in  fear  of  miracles, 
when  the  latter  forced  themselves  upon  the  yearning  spirit. 
We  shall  hereafter  see  how  much  Schleiermacher  owed  to 
this  philosophy. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  man  who  had  at  least  as  large  a 
share  in  Schleiermacher's  education  as  Schelling,  although 
Schleiermacher  took  a  position  of  avowed  hostility  to  the 
natural  philosophy.  We  mean  Frederick  Henry  Jacobi.  I 
intentionally  omitted  speaking  of  this  pious  and  profound 
thinker,  of  this  child-like  and  pure  man  and  noble  philosopher, 
until  we  had  seen  the  phases  of  the  new  philosophy  as  rep- 
resented in  Kant,  Fichte,  and  Schelling,  so  as  to  be  able 

Vol.  II.— 16 


23G 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


to  follow  in  one  aspect  this  life,  which  was  in  contact  with 
all  the  aforenamed  thinkers,  —  Kant,  Fichte  and  Schelling, — 
and  outwardly  constituted,  in  a  certain  measure,  the  center 
about  which  the  intellectual  men  of  that  day  gathered. 

Frederick  Henry  Jacobi,  the  second  son  of  a  wealthy 
merchant  of  Düsseldorf,  and  brother  of  the  well-known  pleasant 
lyric  poet,  John  George  Jacobi,  was  born  on  the  25th  of 
January,  1743.1  He  was  therefore  a  contemporary  of  Herder 
and  Lavater.  His  father  intended  him  for  the  mercantile 
business,  and  the  boy  went  to  Frankfort-on-the-Main  in  his 
sixteenth  year  to  learn  it.  But  he  soon  exhibited  greater  fond- 
ness for  science  than  for  trade.  He  went  to  Geneva,  where 
he  became  acquainted  with  educated  men,  especially  Le  Sage, 
the  mathematician,  and  with  the  best  works  of  French 
literature;  and  whence,  after  a  couple  of  years,  he  returned 
to  his  father's  house.  In  his  twenty-second  year  he  was 
married  to  Betty  von  Clermont,  of  Naels,  near  Aix-la-Chapelle, 
"a  glorious  Netherlander,"  as  Goethe  calls  her,  "who,  ex- 
pressing herself  vivaciously,  without  a  shadow  of  sentimen- 
tality or  sensuousness,  but  with  the  most  correct  feeling,  re- 
minded us  by  her  solidity  of  the  women  painted  by  Rubens." 2 
Jacobi  soon  gave  up  the  mercantile  business  to  become  a 
member  of  the  exchequer,  and  subsequently  to  enter  the 
service  of  the  state  with  the  title  of  Privy  Councillor.  In 
this  position  he  lived  in  circumstances  outwardly  very  favorable. 
His  well-appointed  house  in  Düsseldorf,  and  particularly  his 
country-seat  in  the  neighboring  village  of  Pempelfort,  afforded 
the  thinker  and  writer  a  fitting  retreat  for  work,  and  to  the 
hospitable  man  the  desired  opportunity  for  the  entertainment 
of  celebrated  guests  from  all  quarters  of  the  cultivated  world. 

His  own  social  talent,  and  the  emotion  accompanying  nearly 
all  that  he  said,  contributed  largely  to  the  vivacity  of  in- 
tellectual society,  and  this  emotional  tone,  which  was  tem- 

1  Comp.  Herbst's  Biographie,  in  the  Bibliothek  christlicher  Denker. 
Leipz.,  1830.  Vol.  I.  But  the  subsequently  published  Briefwechsel  zwischen 
Göthe  und  Fr.  H.  Jacobi,  by  Max  Jacobi,  is  specially  important  for 
estimating  his  character.   Leipzig,  1846. 

2  Aus  meinem  Leben,  Book  xiv.   (Stuttgart  Ed.  1829.  xxvi.  p.  285.) 


JACOBI  AS  A  PHILOSOPHER. 


237 


pered  by  that  of  refined  manners,  passed  over  into  his  writings. 
Jacobi's  capacity  for  authorship  has  been  questioned,  because 
he  was  devoid  of  profound  learning;  he  was,  it  is  said,  rather 
the  scientific  amateur.1  But  it  seems  to  me  of  the  greatest 
significance  that  a  man  who  stood  aloof  from  all  German 
pedantry,  and  had  been  chiefly  incited  by  French  culture;  a 
man  who  did  not  need  to  dispute  for  a  philosophical  lecture- 
room,  for  he  had  more  than  enough  for  his  physical  life, 
should  venture  into  the  depths  of  philosophy  through  the  in- 
ward impulse  of  his  own  mind,  but  yet  not  to  make  a  name 
for  himself,  or  to  establish  a  school,  but  simply  to  gain 
clearness  of  view  on  the  highest  concerns  of  humanity. 

This  impulse  affected  Jacobi  in  early  childhood.  "I  was  still 
wearing  baby-frocks,"  he  says,  "  when  I  began  to  be  troubled 
about  things  of  the  future  world,  and  my  childish  acuteness 
led  me  in  my  eighth  or  ninth  year  to  certain  views  that  cling 
to  me  to  this  very  hour.  The  earnest  desire  to  attain  to 
certainty  on  the  anticipations  of  man,  increased  with  my 
years,  and  it  has  become  the  thread  to  which  all  my  re- 
maining experiences  must  join."  Nor  did  this  impulse  for- 
sake him  in  his  later  years.  In  his  Conversation  on  Idealism 
and  Realism  he  says:  "I  am  now  over  forty-three  years  of 
age,  and  I  have  been  thrown  hither  and  thither  with  a  toler- 
ably rough  hand.  Thousands  of  men  may  surpass  me  in  in- 
tellectual gifts,  but  certainly  there  are  few  who  exceed  me  in 
steadfastness  and  zeal  in  struggling  for  understanding  and  truth. 
I  have  unweariedly  sought  the  most  celebrated  and  also  un- 
celebrated sources  of  human  knowledge,  and  from  many  I 
have  searched  for  the  fountain  until  it  was  lost  in  invisible 
veins.  I  saw  near  me  other  inquirers,  and  many  of  them 
were  among  the  greatest  of  my  contemporaries.  I  have  also 
had  the  opportunity,  and  have  also  been  compelled,  to  try 
my  strength,  and  to  have  it  tried,  in  various  ways."2 

1  See  Gervinus  (Vol.  IV.  p.  556  ff.),  who  estimates  him,  as  well  as 
Herder,  Claudius,  Stilling,  Lavater,  and  even  Herder,  too,  in  part,  from 
a  point  of  view  that  we  cannot  occupy,  though,  on  the  other  hand,  we 
would  not  place  Jacobi  so  low  as  is  done  by  the  Evang.  Kirchenz.,  of 
Berlin;  April  No.  1843.  2  Werke,  published  by  Roth,  Vol.  II.  p.  133. 


238 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Jacobi  has  become  strictly  the  philosopher  of  life  and  of 
the  educated  world,  but  in  a  higher  and  nobler  sense  than 
those  philosophers  who  attempted,  by  shallowing,  to  make 
popular  the  thoughts  outwardly  raked  up,  rhetorically  fashioned, 
and  only  thinly  skimmed  from  the  surface.  No,  that  honest 
struggling  for  profundity  as  well  as  clearness,  that  persistent 
introspection,  that  requiring  account  of  our  inmost  nature, 
that  return  to  feeling,  the  original  element  in  man,  and,  finally, 
that  humanity  with  which  he  welcomed  every  phenomenon  in 
the  intellectual  sphere  whose  serious  character  he  observed, 
but  also  that  dignified  wrath  with  which  he  repelled  all  de- 
nial of  a  personal  God  and  all  dishonor  of  virtue, — these 
are  what  place  him  on  a  level  with  Herder,  and  must  make 
him  worthy  of  a  position  with  those  who,  scorning  the 
borrowed  phrases  of  the  schools,  have  determined  to  pursue 
the  same  course  of  inward  experience  of  life,  let  the  cry  of 
fashion  be  what  it  may. 

Jacobi  stood  to  the  philosophy  of  his  day,  as  it  had  flowed 
down  from  Kant  to  Schelling,  in  a  very  peculiar  relation.1 
He  was  incited  by  each  of  these  systems;  he  learned  from 
each,  and  on  each  of  them  he  exercised  his  strength.  But 
he  was  not  satisfied  by  either  of  them,  yet  was  most  strongly 
repelled  by  pantheism,  whether  the  earlier  pantheism  of 
Spinoza,  whom  he  highly  esteemed  as  a  man,  or  its  later 
form  in  Schelling's  natural  philosophy.  According  as  one 
forms  an  idea  of  philosophy,  Jacobi  was  either  an  opponent 
of  all  philosophy,  a  non-philosopher,  as  he  called  himself,  or, 
which  we  hold  him  to  be,  he  was  a  philosopher  in  the  sense 
that  Socrates  was,  by  his  knowledge  of  his  ignorance,  and  by 
his  vast  and  abundant  knowledge  of  himself  and  the  world.2 

1  This  relation  cannot  be  very  easily  described.  "Take  the  trouble 
at  some  convenient  time,"  Goethe  writes  to  Jacobi,  "to  explain  to  me, 
in  what  respect  yon  differ  from  our  new  philosophers,  and  where  they 
differ  from  you,  and  thus  enable  me  to  contend  with  them  in  your  name." 
Briefwechsel,  p.  209. 

2  "Jacobi  was  not  strictly  a  philosopher.  He  never  attained  to  a 
system.  But  he  was  a  complete  man,  who  philosophized  as  a  complete 
man;   an  occasional  philosopher  if  you  will,  but  possessing  an  impar- 


JACOßfs  ESTIMATE  OF  REASON  AND  FAITH.  239 

He  was  certainly  a  decided  opponent  of  philosophy,  the 
ultimate  object  of  which  is  the  merely  formal  knowledge  of 
things.  He  had  no  sense  for  that  merely  "logical  enthusiasm" 
whose  highest  end  is  thought  itself.  His  great  object  was 
not  the  explanation  of  things,  but  just  that  which  cannot  be 
explained,  comprised  into  notions,  or  divided  into  words, — 
the  simple  and  the  indissoluble.  "  The  ground  of  all  specula- 
tive philosophy,1'  he  says,  "is  only  a  great  hole,  into  which 
we  look  in  vain,  as  into  a  horrible  and  gloomy  abyss." 1  But 
this  disinclination  to  speculative  philosophy  did  not  prevent 
him  from  seeking  its  ground,  but  he  digged  inwardly,  while 
others  digged  at  the  same  hole  outwardly.  "No  one,"  says 
Jacobi,  "can  despise  subtleties  more  than  I  do,  but  I  dis- 
tinguish from  them  [highly  significant]  the  free  effort  of  the 
inmost,  original  sense."2  And  Jacobi  established  everything 
on  this  inmost,  original  sense.  "  There  is,"  he  says,  "  a 
knowledge  of  the  supernatural,  of  God  and  divine  things;  it 
is  the  most  certain  in  the  human  spirit,  an  absolute  knowl- 
edge springing  directly  from  the  human  reason;  but  it  can 
never  shape  itself  into  a  science."  3 

Jacobi  did  not  despise  reason,  but  rather  pleaded  for  it; 
only  reason  was  not  to  him  a  faculty  for  the  creation,  dis- 
covery, or  production  of  truth  from  itself.  But  by  reason  he 
meant,  according  to  the  derivation  of  the  word,  that  which 
perceives,  the  inmost  and  original  sense.  He  therefore  did 
not  regard  reason  and  faith  in  conflict  with  each  other,  but 
as  one.  Faith  inwardly  supplies  what  knowledge  cannot  ob- 
tain. Here  Jacobi  united  with  Kant  in  acknowledging  the 
insufficiency  of  our  knowledge  to  produce  a  demonstration 
of  God  and  divine  things;  for  "the  demonstration  of  that 
which  is  to  be  proved,  spirit,  can  never  undergo  scientific 
treatment,  because  it  cannot  become  letter;  and  we  destroy 

tiality  and  purity  of  research,  and  an  inspiration  and  beauty  of  represen- 
tation, as  were  possessed  by  few  of  the  philosophical  guild."  Kahnis, 
Der  innere  Gang  des  deutschen  Protestantismus,  p.  128.  Leipzig,  1854. 
Comp,  also  Perthes'  Leben,  Vol.  I.  p.  67  ff. 

1  Warle,  Vol.  I.  p.  366.         2  To  Hamann,  Werke,  Vol.  I.  p.  403. 

3  Von  den  göttl.  Dingen  u.  ihrer  Offenbarung,  p.  152.  Note.  Leipz.,  1811. 


240 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


the  spirit  by  our  habit  of  changing  it  into  the  letter." 1  But 
the  vacant  place  which  Kant  had  therefore  left  in  his  system 
for  divine  things,  and  which  he  only  supplied  imperfectly  and 
unsatisfactorily  by  that  which  he  referred  to  practical  reason, 
Jacobi  filled  up  by  the  doctrine  of  faith.  Man  can  certainly 
not  reach  God  in  thought,  but  he  can  feel  and  experience 
him.  We  must  love  God,  he  says  with  Pascal,  in  order  to 
perceive  him.  This  love,  as  wre  experience  it  lovingly  in  our- 
selves, is  original,  and  proves  itself  to  our  spirit  before  all 
thinking.  We  know  of  God  and  his  Spirit  because  we  are 
born  of  God,  created  after  his  image,  and  are  his  offspring 
and  generation.  God  lives  in  us,  and  our  life  is  hid  in  God. 
If  he  were  not  immediately  present  in  this  way,  by  his  image 
in  our  inmost  self,  what  is  there  beyond  him  that  can  declare 
him  to  us? 

Jacobi  thus  believed  in  a  revelation  of  God  to  man,  but 
one  continuously  published  to  his  inmost  nature,  which  he 
perceives  with  reason,  without  being  able  to  grasp  with  the 
understanding.2  But  however  much  he  used  this  faith  in 
revelation  in  opposing  the  cold,  calculating  understanding, 
he  was  just  as  far  from  taking  side  with  the  believers  in 
revelation,  in  the  ecclesiastical  sense  of  the  word.  And 
here  wTas  the  point  in  which  he  differed  from  his  friends 
Claudius,  Hamann,  Lavater,  and  from  the  professors  of 
positive  Christianity  in  general,  and  by  which  he  made  it 
impossible  for  himself  to  acquire  the  name  of  a  strictly 
Christian  philosopher,  though  his  sentiment,  the  whole 
contemplation  and  effort  of  his  heart,  and  the  entire 
tendency  of  his  philosophy,  were  thoroughly  Christian.  Just 
because  Jacobi  made  everything  dependent  on  the  eternal 
self-experience  of  the  spirit,  and  because  that  to  him  was 
divine  which  every  one  must  himself  perceive,  a  revelation 

1  Werke,  Vol.  II.  p.  314. 

2  Jacobi,  especially  in  his  later  writings,  rendered  the  service  of 
carrying  out  fully  and  acutely,  even  in  a  philosophical  view,  the  dis- 
tinction between  reason  and  understanding,  which  Kant  had  only  half 
grasped.  See  Chalybaeus'  History  of  Speculative  Philosophy,  pp.  60.  61. 
American  Edition. 


JAC013I  AND  CLAUDIUS. 


241 


derived  from  without,  however  provided  with  all  miracles, 
was  as  little  calculated  to  satisfy  him  as  a  philosophical 
system  externally  constructed  and  outwardly  learned.  In  both 
instances  he  thought  that  he  perceived  the  deadly  nature  of 
the  letter.  As  speculative  philosophy  was  too  idealistic  for 
him,  so  was  the  orthodox  faith  too  realistic,  material,  and 
positive.  Personally,  he  highly  esteemed  the  strict  believers 
in  revelation,  and  felt  himself  united  with  them  most  in- 
timately by  living  faith  in  God  and  by  piety  of  heart.  From 
his  work  on  Divine  Things  and  Their  Revelation,  we  can  see 
how  intimate  his  relation  was  to  Claudius.  But  it  seemed 
to  him  that  these  pious  people  were  involved  in  a  self-de- 
ception, for  they  ascribed  that  to  external  revelation  which 
lies  in  themselves,  and  which  is  only  awakened  in  them,  but 
not  first  produced,  by  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures.  It  is 
with  them,  he  thought,  as  with  children  who,  when  they  are 
riding  on  a  hobby-horse,  think  that  the  horse  is  moving  them, 
while  they  owe  it  to  their  own  effort  that  they  continue  in 
motion.  "It  all  depends  upon  their  own  centrifugal  force  and 
firm  attitude,  with  wisdom,  courage,  and  a  good  will ;  .  .  . 
the  horse  does  not  make  the  man  any  more  than  the  coat 
does." 1 

Claudius,  on  the  contrary,  compared  an  ideal  religion  with- 
out a  historical  basis  to  a  painted  horse,  which  may  be  ad- 
mired, but  on  which  nobody  can  ride.  Jacobi  further  and 
more  ingeniously  compared  the  revelation  to  the  consonants, 
and  the  religious  perception  dwelling  in  us  to  the  vowels  by 
which  the  dumb  consonants  are  made  to  speak.  Yet  he  con- 
fesses that  they  both  belong  together,  and  herein  Claudius 
had  to  unite  with  him.  Jacobi  bowed  reverently  before  the 
warm  and  enthusiastic  description  which  Claudius,  in  his  great 
simplicity,  made  of  Christ.  "What  a  picture!"  he  exclaims. 
"What  elevated  and  affecting  contrasts!  What  a  force  of 
beauty,  of  grace,  and  of  majesty  in  the  combined  characteristics 
of  this  perfect  ideal  of  united  Deity  and  humanity!"  Jacobi 
also  found,  like  Claudius,  all  that  he  desired  of  the  religious 
and  moral  man  united  in  the  real  historical  Christ,  who  was 

1  Göttliche  l  inje,  p.  104. 


242 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


to  him  more  than  an  ideal,  and  by  no  means  a  mere  in- 
vention or  myth.  But  while  Claudius  insisted  upon  attaining 
to  God  only  through  Christ,  and  could  only  be  elevated  to 
God  by  faith  in  Christ,  Jacobi,  on  the  other  hand,  held  that 
by  this  means  we  would  ourselves  be  soaring  aloft  with  him. 

The  principal  thing  to  Jacobi  was,  that  which  is  vital  in 
Christ  becomes  living  in  us.  The  reliance  on  historical  events 
was  regarded  by  him  as  superstition ;  and  thus,  in  relation  to 
positive  Christianity,  he  continually  remained  in  a  suspicious 
position,  fearing  that  the  outwardness  which  was  so  odious 
to  him  lay  concealed  behind  it,  and  regarding  every  com- 
plete system  as  somewhat  dangerous,  that  is,  an  idol  which 
men  adore  instead  of  the  living  God.  His  view,  in  this 
respect,  was  quite  similar  to  Fichte's,  though  he  was  very 
much  opposed  to  him  in  his  philosophical  principles.  Jacobi, 
like  Fichte  in  his  later  life,  felt  his  whole  heart  attracted  to 
the  inward  and  profound  vital  source  of  Christianity,  and  for 
this  reason  he  was  decried,  in  opposition  to  the  cold  skeptics, 
as  a  canter  and  an  ignoramus;  but  when  he  would  inclose 
this  fountain,  interpret  the  import  of  Christian  doctrine  with 
the  understanding,  and  comprise  what  is  believed  into  a  res- 
ervoir,— that  is,  a  confession,  a  formula, — his  inmost  feeling 
strove  against  it.  By  this  sympathy  with  religion,  and  antip- 
athy to  all  dogmatics  and  speculation,  his  own  remarkable 
confession  may  be  explained:  that  he  is  a  Christian  in  heart 
and  a  heathen  in  understanding,  and  that  he  floats  between 
two  waters  that  can  never  be  united  in  him. 

The  matter  of  Jacobi's  heathenism  was  not  very  serious, 
however.  Just  that  specifically  heathen  view  which  is  com- 
prised in  pantheism  as  a  deification  of  nature  and  the  world, 
was  the  farthest  possible  remove  from  him.  We  would  sooner 
say  that  he  was  at  heart  a  Supernaturalist,  or  even  a  Pietist, 
in  the  good  and  honorable  sense  of  the  word,  and  a  Ration- 
alist in  understanding;  for,  while  Jacobi  did  not  agree  with 
the  more  specific  Christian  doctrines,  his  philosophy  proved 
itself  essentially  Christian,  for  he  formally  maintained,  against 
the  pantheistic  fanaticism  of  his  day,  faith  in  a  personal  God, 
who  constitutes  the  groundwork  of  all  revelation,  and,  with- 


SERVICE  OF  JACOBI'S  PHILOSOPHY. 


243 


out  whom  everything  said  about  revelation  is  empty  deception 
and  mere  quibbles. 

We  cannot  here  follow  out  the  extensive  philosophical  con- 
troversy which  was  chiefly  incited  by  the  study  of  Spinoza, 
renewed  by  Lessing,  and  afterward  raised  to  special  im- 
portance by  Schelling.  We  will  only  say  a  few  words  on 
the  question  in  dispute  taken  as  a  whole,  as  it  continued  to 
become  a  vital  question  of  the  whole  period,  and  on  the 
decision  of  which  even  our  own  times  continue  to  watch  with 
interest.  While  I  give  prominence  to  the  firm  maintenance 
of  faith  in  a  personal  God,  in  opposition  to  the  pantheistic 
tendencies,  as  the  principal  service  of  Jacobi's  philosophy 
and  as  a  characteristic  monument  of  its  Christian  character, 
I  do  not  adhere  to  the  word  and  notion  of  "  personality,"  and 
I  would  willingly  employ  another  term  if  one  could  be  found 
which  designates  with  sufficient  definiteness  a  God,  self-con- 
scious, distinct  from  the  world,  and  not  coincident  with  the 
world.  I  grant  that  the  expression  "personality"  easily  takes 
with  it  the  accessory  notion  of  limitation,  which  we  must 
certainly  regard  as  altogether  removed  in  respect  to  God. 
This  meaning  was  adopted  by  Herder,  who  adhered  to  the 
philosophy  of  Spinoza,  in  opposition  to  Jacobi  and  also  to 
the  expression  "personality,"  because  it  designates  contrast 
and  specialty ; 1  and  even  Lavater  granted,  that  the  notion  of 

1  In  his  work  "God"  (WerJce  zur  Philosophie  und  Geschichte,  Vol.  VIII. 
p.  203  f.)  lie  says:  "Person  (jTQOgwTVOv)  used  to  mean  a  face,  and 
hence  a  theatrical  character;  in  this  way  it  led  to  that  peculiarity  of 
a  character  which  distinguishes  it  from  another.  Thus  the  word  passed 
into  the  language  of  common  life.  'This  man,'  says  one,  'plays  his 
person,  or  brings  his  personality  into  the  matter.'  Thus,  person  was 
placed  in  opposition  to  the  thing,  always  designating  something  con- 
trasting, marking  out  a  peculiarity  in  it.  In  this  way  the  word  passed 
into  judicial  language,  into  the  difference  of  conditions.  Can  we  apply 
something  of  this  prosopopoeia  to  God?  He  is  neither  a  face  nor  a  mask, 
nor  a  person  of  standing,  nor  a  delineated  character,  who  is  present 
with  others  and  plays  with  them.  Let  us  leave  these  personal  char- 
acteristics, which  always  lead  us,  if  not  to  something  false,  assumed, 
and  imputed,  at  least  to  some  peculiarity  in  form,  shape,  and  dis- 
tinction from  others,  —  to  position,  rank,  etc.,  and  consequently  removed 


214 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


a  personality  of  God  belongs  to  the  youthful  state  and  per- 
ception of  humanity.1  But  yet  the  same  Lavater  stood  here  on 
Jacobi's  side,  and  he  expressed  the  latter' s  inmost  conviction 
when  he  wrote:  "The  most  powerful  object  in  me,  above  me, 
and  outside  of  me  is  God,  and  the  personal  man  must  per- 
sonify." Jacobi  (and  here  he  constantly  held  his  ground, 
amid  all  the  dispute),  would  know  nothing  of  a  God  who  is 
not  a  helper,  a  God  who  creates  the  eye  and  does  not  see, 
who  plants  the  ear  and  does  not  hear,  who  makes  the  under- 
standing and  does  not  perceive, — knows  nothing,  wills  nothing, 
and  therefore  does  not  exist.2 

Pantheism  and  atheism  were  the  same  to  Jacobi,  for  a  God 
who  first  obtains  his  existence  by  the  world,  and  first  comes 
to  consciousness  in  man,  is  not  God,  but  an  idol.  Neither 
would  Jacobi  concede  a  merely  extramundane  and  super- 
terrestrial  God  (as  the  Deists  held),  who,  separated  from  the 
world  and  humanity,  does  not  seem  to  trouble  himself  about 
the  world  and  mankind;  he  held  to  a  God  who  declares  him- 
self to  man's  inward  nature,  and  gives  us  the  witness  that 
we  are  of  divine  origin.  He  did  not  confine  this  God  in  the 
world,  but  believed  in  a  God  whom  we  do  not  have  in  our 
eye,  but  before  our  eyes;  a  God  whom  we  do  not  have  to 
call  the  Ego,  but  the  Thou;  a  God  to  whom  we  can  pray, 
and  who  says  to  himself:  "I  am  that  I  am."  Thus,  accord- 
ing to  Jacobi,  man  should  know  God  above  as  well  as  in 
himself,  and  only  by  adhering  to  the  one  as  well  as  to  the 
other  did  he  hold  the  living  faith  in  God  (theism),  as  Chris- 
tianity and  the  Bible  declare  him,  and  as  everything  which 

from  the  pure  idea  of  a  perfectly  incomparable  essence  and  truth. 
"While  God  does  not  respect  the  person,  he  is  just  as  far  from  playing 
a  person,  or  from  affecting  personalities,  or  having  one  personal  thinking 
in  strong  contrast  with  others.  He  is.  No  one  is  as  he  is. — But 
should  not  the  highest  intelligence  require  the  word  personality,  so 
that  the  unity  of  self-consciousness  constitutes  personality?  I  do  not 
see  this  to  be  the  case;  but,  rather,  personality  is  always  a  foreign 
and  repainted  word,"  etc.  Compare,  on  this  work  of  Herder,  Schillers 
und  Körner's  Briefwechsel,  Vol.  I.  p.  143  ff. 

1  Ratjen,  Joh.  Fr.  Kleuher  und  Briefe  seiner  Freunde,  p.  85. 

2  Göttliche  Lincje,  p.  185. 


SCHLEIERiMACHEItS  RELATION  TO  SCHELLING  AND  JACOBI.  245 

is  religion  in  heaven  and  on  earth  requires  and  presupposes 
him  with  an  eternal  necessity. 

Thus  much  on  Jacobi  as  a  Christian  thinker.  We  would 
not  here  revive  the  personal  controversy  between  him  and 
Schelling,  which  was  conducted  by  the  latter  with  great  bitter- 
ness ; 1  but  would  only  call  to  mind  how  that  which  was  then 
the  subject  of  conflict  with  these  two  men,  is  disputed  in 
the  schools  down  to  our  day,  though  under  another  name; 
Hegel  building  upon  Schelling; 2  Fries,  and  many  other 
independent  thinkers  with  him,  building  in  part  on  Kant  and 
in  part  on  Jacobi;  and  yet  every  one  going  his  own  path, 
and  partially  opposing  his  predecessors.3  I  regard  it  as 
highly  significant  that  Schleiermacher,  who  gave  rise  to  the 
new  movement  in  theology,  should  appropriate  the  essential 
excellencies  of  both  Schelling  and  Jacobi,  yet  not  by  an 
eclectic  caprice,  but  by  inward  and  personal  reproduction. 
But  before  we  speak  of  him,  we  will  leave  the  thorny  specu- 
lative field  where  you  have  been  too  long  delayed,  and,  in 
the  next  lecture,  will  lead  you  to  the  free  and  pleasant 
territory  of  art,  for  we  hope  to  show  how  the  real  funda- 
mental ideas  of  the  natural  philosophy  have  marked  out  a 
path  in  life,  in  part  through  Goethe  and  in  part  through  the 
adherents  of  the  so-called  Romantic  School. 

1  In  Derilcmal  der  Schrift  von  den  göttlichen  Dingen.  Tübingen,  1812. 

2  We  only  speak  here  of  Schelling  in  his  earlier  period.  It  is  well 
known  that  he  afterward  made  an  important  change  in  favor  of  faith, 
yet  without  arriving  at  a  satisfactory  completion  of  his  system.  The 
judgment  of  the  Greek  priest  Golubinski  was:  "He  sailed  from  one 
bank,  but  never  landed  on  the  other."  (In  Harthausen's  Studien  über 
Russland.  1847.  Vol.  I.  p.  83). — Yet  he  has  since  landed  where  we  all 
hope  some  day  to  land. 

8  Comp.,  e.  g.,  Fries,  Von  deutscher  Philosophie,  Art  und  Kunst,  Heidel- 
berg, 1812. 


LECTURE  im 


CORRESPONDING  TENDENCIES  IN  THE  DEPARTMENT  OF  BELLES- 
LETTRES. —  JEAN  PAUL  AND  HEBEL.  —  RELATION  OF  JACOBl'S 
POETRY  TO  HIS  PHILOSOPHY  OF  FEELING. — GOETHE  AND 
THE  ROMANTICISTS  IN  CONNECTION  WITH  SCHELLING. — 
COMPARISON  BETWEEN  SCHILLER  AND  GOETHE  IN  RELATION 
TO  THEIR  POSITION  TOWARD  CHRISTIANITY.  —  GOETHE'S  IN- 
FLUENCE ON  THE  MOST  RECENT  PERIOD. 

As  the  Kantian  philosophy  found  its  poetical  expression  in 
Schiller,  so  do  we  see  that  Schelling's  natural  philosophy, 
which  we  considered  in  the  last  lecture,  has  its  poetical  rep- 
resentatives in  the  most  recent  literature;  and  these  are 
all  the  more  numerous  because  this  philosophy  is  naturally 
half  poetry,  and  rises  on  the  wings  of  imagination  above  the 
realm  of  the  common  understanding.  The  Kantian  philos- 
ophy had  been  thoroughly  prosaic,  and  Schiller's  poetry  had 
planted  itself  only  at  its  side  as  an  outward  supplement. 
What  the  critical  understanding  had  broken  to  pieces  should 
now  be  restored  by  poetry,  yet  without  the  reason  for  this 
procedure  appearing  at  all  justified  by  science ;  it  was  rather 
a  certain  instinct  which  impelled  to  this  restoration,  as  nature 
in  general,  and  accordingly  that  of  man,  knows  how  to  re- 
store everything  to  equilibrium. 

But  the  case  was  quite  different  with  Schelling's  natural 
philosophy.  From  the  very  outset  it  proceeded  in  most  in- 
timate union  with  poetry.  It  awakened  the  slumbering  poetic 
feeling  in  many  a  youthful  breast;  it  was  really  the  root 
of  a  new  poetic  school,  which  derived  its  strength  and  nourish- 


JACOBUS  PHILOSOPHY  IN  CONNECTION  WITH  POETRY.  247 

ment  from  it.  That  poetical  view  of  things  which  must  under- 
lie all  merely  technical  skill  where  a  real  work  of  art  should 
be  created,  has  been  awakened  by  this  philosophy;  by  it, 
art  has  been  fully  released  from  the  bondage  of  rules  in 
which  it  had  been  fettered  by  the  imitation  of  foreign  art; 
and,  above  all,  Goethe  stands  here  as  the  master  of  a  new 
poetic  school,  as  the  prince  of  poets,  as  they  call  him,  as 
the  king  of  a  new  intellectual  kingdom,  with  which  even  the 
enchanted  gardens  of  Romanticism  are  partially  connected. 
But  before  we  consider  the  connection  of  Schelling's  natural 
philosophy  and  Goethe  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  Romanticists 
on  the  other,  let  us  ask  whether  Jacobfs  philosophy,  which 
we  became  acquainted  with  as  the  antithesis  of  Schelling's, 
presents  any  poetical  affinities,  and  whether  the  assertion 
of  the  religious  feeling  in  philosophy  did  not  also  find  its 
corresponding  subject  in  poetry? 

We  can  answer  in  the  affirmative.  I  need  not  remind  you 
that  the  philosopher  F.  H.  Jacobi  also  traveled  the  realm  of 
poetry,1  for  in  his  Woldemar  he  made  a  contribution  to  the 
literature  of  didactic  romance ;  and  I  would  only  say  in  pass- 
ing that  his  brother,  John  George  Jacobi,  occupies  an  honor- 
able position  among  the  pleasant  poets  of  his  day.2  But,  to 
mention  an  important  name  just  now,  we  may  confidently  say 
that  Jean  Paul  presents  the  poetical  counterpart  to  Jacobi 
the  philosopher.  Not  only  was  Jean  Paul  Frederick  Richter 
outwardly  friendly  with  Jacobi  the  philosopher,3  and  with 
Herder,  but  he  publicly  professed  the  Christianity  of  these 

1  Goethe  says  of  Jacobi,  that  there  was  something  of  both  the  poet 
and  philosopher  wanting  in  him,  which  prevented  him  from  being  both. 
Gespräche  mit  Eckermann,  Vol.  I.  p.  343. 

2  Gervinus  charges  him  with  siveetishness.  Perhaps  so,  but  such  poems  as 
"Ash-Wednesday,"  "Mother's  Love  and  Mother's  Fidelity,"  "Confidence," 
and  many  others,  will  ever  be  valuable,  just  as  the  paintings  of  Carlo 
Dolce,  with  whom  Gervinus  himself  compares  Jacobi's  poems.  Yet  it 
will  always  be  regretted  that  his  fine  poetic  talent  was  so  long  con- 
trolled by  his  sensuously  revelling  anacreontics,  against  which  "the 
pastors"  (Herder  among  the  number)  contended  not  altogether  without 
cause.    Gervinus,  Vol.  IV.  pp.  259—262. 

8  Brießcechsel  von  Jean  Paul  und  Voss,  p.  99. 


248 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


men,  which  he  called  a  cheerful  Christianity,  in  opposition  to 
all  mystical  obscurity  and  bigoted  gloom.1  In  his  Greenland 
Lawsuits  he  persecuted  the  prevailing  orthodoxy  with  a  decided 
mixture  of  satire.  But  he  knew  and  desired  a  different  and 
better  illuminism  than  that  of  the  Universal  German  Library; 
he  would  have  a  pious  illuminism  and  an  illuminated  piety, 
and  he  found  both  in  Jacobi.  He  unites  with  him  positively 
as  wrell  as  negatively,  in  what  he  asserts  as  well  as  in  wrhat 
he  rejects.  With  Jacobi,  he  adheres  to  faith  in  a  personal 
God  and  in  personal  immortality,  and  has  expressed  the 
hope  of  the  latter  in  a  peculiar  way  in  his  Campanerthal.2 
But  with  him  he  also  discards  the  "narrowness  of  the  theo- 
logical views  and  prospects,"  as  he  calls  them,  which  would 
confine  the  life  of  our  anticipation  to  a  Jewish- Christian 
doctrine.  Jean  Paul  will  also  have  a  revelation,  but  not  one 
that  is  historically  complete,  terminated  for  all  time,  but  a 
continual  revelation  of  God  to  our  spirit.  Like  Jacobi,  he 
speaks  with  the  deepest  reverence  of  Christ,  "the  purest 
among  the  mighty,  and  the  mightiest  among  the  pure,  who 
raised  a  world  from  its  axis  by  his  pierced  hand;"  but  he 
can  no  more  adopt  the  ecclesiastical  view  of  Christ  than 
could  the  philosopher  of  Pempelfort.  He,  too,  wrould  rather 
soar  with  Christ  to  God  than  come  to  God  through  Christ. 
The  ecclesiastical  doctrine  of  the  atonement  repels  him,  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  Herder's  view  of  the  Son  of  man,  w7ho 
represents  pure  humanity  in  its  highest  transformation,  pleases 
him  best. 

In  none  of  Jean  Paul's  writings  does  he  scoff  at  religion; 

1  See  the  Letter  to  his  Son,  in  Gelzer,  p.  365. 

2  "As  Jacobi,  Lavater,  and  Jung-Stilling  would  have  a  personal  God 
in  human  form  ["Who  says  that  the  human  form  is  brought  in  by  inter- 
pretation?], so  did  he  seem  to  need  an  individual  duration,  although  in 
his  Campanerthal  he  could  not  give  much  comfort  to  those  who  desire  a 
personal  existence."  Gervinus,  Vol.  V.  p.  245  f.  The  believing  Chris- 
tian can  certainly  find  other  foundation  for  his  faith  in  immortality 
than  those  furnished  in  Jean  Paul's  poetry;  but  all  of  us  who  have 
not  yet  been  brought  to  the  resignation  of  annihilation,  can  unite  with 
him  in  his  great  hope  that  the  kingdom  of  the  True,  the  Beautiful  and 
the  Good  does  not  terminate  with  this  world. 


JEAN  PAUL  S  RELATION  TO  CHRISTIANITY.  249 

on  the  contrary,  he  shudders  at  such  a  degeneration  of  man. 
But  he  has  occasionally  given  a  humorous  turn  to  the  ecclesi- 
astical statements  of  doctrine,  in  order  to  prove  plainly  to 
the  conscience  the  insufficiency  of  all  intellectual  definitions 
in  religion.1  Jean  Paul's  faith,  according  to  his  own  language, 
does  not  rest  upon  isolated  proofs,  as  on  stakes  or  feet,  that 
need  only  to  be  broken  off  in  order  that  it  may  tumble 
down;  but  it  is  rooted  by  a  thousand  invisible  fibers  into 
the  broad  soil  of  feeling.  Therefore  he  says,  that  one  may 
"silence,  yet  not  convince  him;  feeling  outlives  understanding, 
just  as  pain  lasts  longer  than  consolatory  arguments."2 
While  the  old  dogmatics  of  the  church  appeared  to  him  ir- 
reconcilable with  the  recent  progressive  education,  he  lament- 
ed, on  the  other  hand,  with  a  pain  equal  to  that  of  Jacobi, 
the  decline  and  fall  of  religion;  the  times  made  him  sad,  and 
he  knew  no  other  relief  than  true  education.  But  according 
to  him,  neither  the  temporal  nor  spiritual  arm,  neither  the 
state  nor  the  church,  but  science  and  poetry,  are  called  to 
restore  religion.  "The  muses  alone  can  convert  the  great," 
and  the  writings  of  the  classics  are  to  him  "  an  eternal 
Biblical  Institute."  Jean  Paul  did  not  penetrate  the  inward 
nature  of  Christianity,  by  which  alone  it  can  be  understood, 
but  he  appropriated  its  blessings  to  his  own  spirit;  and 
yet,  if  these  blessings  consist  chiefly  in  the  inward  man 
and  his  inner  world  having  their  real  claims  satisfied,  Jean 
Paul  is  more  controlled  than  many  others  by  the  Christian 
view  of  things;  and  we  might  say  that,  without  an  anteced- 
ent Christianity,  his  poetry  would  have  been  as  impossible 
as  Jacobi's  philosophy.  The  hard  crust  that  had  settled  on 
historical  Christianity  by  the  formulas  of  orthodoxy,  made 
it  impossible  for  both  men  to  arrive  at  an  impartial  historical 
view,  wrhile  they  wrere  not  only  affected  by  the  spirit  of 
Christianity,  but  were  in  part  pervaded  by  it. 

We  do  not  hesitate  to  place  our  Alemannic  poet  Hebel 
beside  Jean  Paul.  In  him,  too,  we  can  perceive  that  every- 
thing which  is  grasped  immediately  with  the  feeling  bears  in 

1  In  the  Grönländische  Processe,  and  the  10th  chapter  of  the  Siebenkäs. 

2  Compare  Gelzer,  p.  376. 


250 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


itself  a  higher  and  heavenly  consecration, — that  of  the  purest 
simplicity  and  innocence,  such  as  only  Christianity  can  bestow. 
The  God  whom  he  finds  everywhere  in  nature,  who  sends 
his  angels  to  the  flowers,  and  who  rises  with  the  early  dawn 
above  the  mountain  top, 1  is  no  other  than  the  living  God  of 
the  Bible,  the  God  of  Job  and  of  the  Psalms,  and  the  Father 
of  Jesus  Christ,  who  clothes  the  lilies  of  the  field  and  feeds 
the  birds  of  the  air;  he  is  not  the  World-Soul,  floating  in 
the  world  and  only  coming  gradually  to  consciousness.  So 
before  this  poet  does  there  bloom,  even  on  the  grave,  the 
hope  of  personal  duration;  it  is  the  same  hope  which,  treated 
with  exceeding  beauty  and  simplicity,  and  thoroughly  based  on 
Scriptural  views,  yet  with  a  free  poetic  sense,  is  expressed 
in  his  Transitoriness.2  Christian  morals  and  Christian  life 
are  presented  to  us  also  in  the  Alemannic  poems  in  pleasant 
simplicity  and  captivating  naturalness.  We  need  call  to  re- 
membrance only  The  Mother  on  Christmas  Eve,  and  Early 
Sunday  Morning;  and  in  his  Morning  Star  "a  Christian  heart 
and  Christian  courage  are  prayed  for."  The  blessing  asked 
at  the  table,  the  ringing  of  the  prayer-bell,  the  walking  of 
the  congregation  to  the  Lord's  house,  and  the  Christian 
ceremonies  at  baptism,  marriage  and  death,  find  their  place, 

1  He  thus  says,  in  his  "Market-women  in  the  City": 

"Our  Father,  God,  I  think,  will  have  it  so, 
As  in  his  Christianity  is  shown." 

2  Hebel  here  unites  with  Jean  Paul  in  designating  the  stars  as  the 
future  dwelling  place  of  the  blessed.  This  is  somewhat  characteristic 
of  the  character  of  the  faith  of  both  men  and  of  their  times.  Such  a 
view  is  certainly  not  unscriptural  (John  xiv.  2);  but  is  unquestionably  de- 
void of  positive  Scriptural  support.  In  other  poems,  as  "On  a  Grave"  and 
"The  "Watchman  at  Midnight,"  the  poet  stands  fully  on  Scriptural  and 
popular  eschatology,  which  we  understand  better  by  him  than  by  all 
the  exegetical  and  doctrinal  explanations.  Among  other  expressions, 
how  beautiful  and  tender  is  this,  from  his  poem  on  "Winter": 

"Securely  housed  from  "Winter's  cold, 
Are  Summer  birds  of  feather  gay; 
"Without  a  pang  or  a  lament, 
They're  waiting  for  their  Easter-day." 


JEAN  PAUL  AND  HEBEL. 


251 


and  are  arranged  as  precious  relics  in  the  shining  mon-trance, 
in  which  we  are  led  to  behold  the  ever-present  God. 

And  yet  Hebel  was  not  thoroughly  Christian  in  the  orthodox 
sense  of  the  word.  Christianity,  in  its  more  definite  and  po- 
sitive form,  stands  in  the  background  in  his  case  as  well  as 
in  Jean  Paul;  indeed,  in  the  theological  works  which  Hebel 
subsequently  published,  when  prelate  in  Carlsruhe,  and  even 
in  his  sermons,  there  often  crops  out  the  rationalistic  thinking 
to  which  his  theological  education  belonged.1  Hebel  never 
arrived  at  a  clear  and  safe  knowledge  of  what  the  Protestant 
church  desires  to  be  and  should  be,  in  its  relation  to  the 
times,  and  what  it  can  become  by  a  vital  theology ;  yet  we  may 
say  that  the  yearning  feeling  of  the  poet  Hebel  more  deeply 
penetrated  the  essence  of  Christianity  and  the  necessities 
of  the  human  heart  than  the  Ecclesiastical  Councillor  Hebel, 
with  all  his  theological  perception  of  the  necessities  of  Protest- 
ant theology  and  the  church.  Even  his  Biblical  Narratives 
have  not  satisfied  to  the  degree  that  might  be  expected  from 
the  hearty  poet.  I  do  not  know  how  far  he  adopted  Jacobi's 
philosophy  as  his  own,  but,  like  Jean  Paul,  he  belongs  to 
the  department  of  that  philosophy,  so  far  as  we  can  prove 
in  him  the  dissension  which  we  have  found  in  Jacobi,  and 
which  the  latter  confessed  of  himself  (while  others  bore  it 
in  their  own  breast  unconsciously), — the  dissension  between 
the  pious  feeling  in  sympathy  with  Christianity  and  an  under- 
standing taking  offence  at  the  doctrinal  form  (therefore 
affiliating  with  the  recent  illuminism),  and  consequently  standing 
on  friendly  terms  with  the  advanced  education. 

But  we  do  not  here  see  any  important  evil.  There  is  not 
so  much  a  dissension  as  an  accommodation  of  the  fruitful 
personality  of  those  men,  and  of  the  purity  of  their  character. 
The  discord  between  the  courageous  feeling  of  the  heart  and 
the  critically  timid  understanding,  as  more  or  less  established 
in  human  nature,  frequently  expresses  itself  in  such  language 
as  vre  might  call  humorous,  and  is  very  becoming  in  Jean 
Paul  and  Hebel.  Yet  the  effect  of  this  humor  rests  upon  the 

1  He  so  far  ignored  the  fundamental  Protestant  doctrine  as  to  call 
Augustine  a  heretic  and  Pelagius  a  saint  (in  the  Liturgische  Beiträge). 
Vol.  IL— 17 


252 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


apprehension  that  the  strength  of  our  understanding  is  not 
sufficient  to  grasp  properly  the  infinite;  and  therefore  the 
inducement  is  at  hand  to  confide  in  the  understanding  to 
speak  of  divine  things  in  a  simple  way,  and  to  group  the 
most  elevated  things  with  those  which  otherwise  belong  to 
the  lower  sphere  of  life.  Naivete,  which  is  nearly  allied  to 
humor,  or,  rather,  is  its  natural  presupposition,  has  therefore 
been  at  all  times  the  best  counterpoise  to  what  is  proudly 
propped  up,  stiff,  and  pedantic — to  all  consequentialness  of 
an  erroneous  orthodoxy,  false  illuminism,  and  an  exaggerating 
and  misleading  speculation.1  Luther  is  here  again  in  ad- 
vance, and  in  this  respect  Jean  Paul  and  Hebel  stand  with 
Claudius,  except  that  the  latter,  like  Luther,  adheres  more 
firmly  to  positive  Christianity,  while  the  former  were  contented 
with  the  more  general  religious  feeling.  But  as  in  Claudius 
we  are  willingly  led  by  his  feeling  nature  to  forget  the  some- 
what stiff  Lutheran  orthodoxy  of  the  later  day,  so  do  we 
also  forget  in  Jean  Paul  and  Hebel  their  negative,  intellectual 
statement  of  doctrine  by  the  positive  doctrinal  confession  of 
their  heart. 

Thus  there  was  exhibited  in  the  philosophy  of  Frederick 
Henry  Jacobi,  and  in  the  spirited,  humorous,  and  naive  style 
of  poetry  just  described,  a  kind  of  religious  tendency,  that 
liberated  the  doctrinal  confession  as  much  as  possible,  but  at 
the  same  time  strove  to  preserve  the  impressions  of  religion 
in  a  good  and  refined  heart,  and  to  represent  them  in  noble 
sentiment.  This  tendency  naturally  acquired  many  adherents, 
especially  among  the  cultivated,  who  were  as  little  at  home 
in  the  old  dogmas  as  in  the  new  speculation;  but  who  were 
not  satisfied  with  either  a  cold  and  merely  negative  skepti- 
cism or  a  dry  system  of  morals.  They  became  more  and 
more  grouped  into  an  invisible  church,  into  whose  upper 
regions  the  fresh  draught  of  the  understanding  had  free  cir- 
culation, but  without  cooling  the  temperature  which  the  heart 
needed  in  its  most  immediate  surroundings.    Feeling  was  the 

1  "We  might  say  that  humor  is  the  naivete  of  the  spirit  pervaded  by 
the  reflexion  of  the  understanding.  Naivete  passes  over  into  humor 
"where  education  has  supplanted,  or  rather  ennobled  it. 


TENDERNESS  AND  SENTIMENTALITY. 


253 


broad  ground  where  those  could  join  hands  who  had  no  room 
beside  each  other  on  the  sharp  line  of  the  understanding. 
Here  Claudius  and  Jacobi,  Lavater  and  Jean  Paul,  came  to- 
gether. No  wonder  that,  as  "humanity  and  illumiirism"  had 
been  watchwords  of  the  day,  "feeling  and  tenderness"  should 
now  be  watchwords  of  the  times. 

Tenderness  is  distinguished  from  what  we  have  earlier 
called  sentimentality  by  greater  directness,  and  by  its  re- 
turning truly  to  the  inmost  root  of  our  sensations,  the  feeling, 
and  thus  springing  forth  again  from  this  root  ;  while  senti- 
mentality (sensibility)  was  often  only  an  artificial  production 
of  the  understanding,  or  of  the  imagination  excited  by  the 
understanding.  Tenderness  appeared  as  a  fresh  and  healthy 
child  of  nature,  while  sentimentality  often  betrayed  a  morbid, 
vain,  and  spoiled  character.  Yet  we  must  not  here  draw 
the  bounds  too  sharply.  Tenderness, — and  here  lay  its 
danger, — could  degenerate  into  effeminacy,  as  is  undoubtedly 
the  case  in  Jean  Paul;  and  it  was  easy  for  obscurity  of  the 
understanding,  as  a  want  of  moral  energy,  to  conceal  itself 
behind  the  lauded  depth  and  inwardness  of  feeling.  Stronger 
and  more  manly  natures  were  by  this  means  repelled,  and 
counter  effects  on  the  side  of  a  tendency  of  the  intellect  and 
of  the  will  were  not  wanting.  But  the  times  were  brought 
more  and  more  to  know  that  the  question  could  not  be  settled 
by  this  dismemberment  and  dispersion.  It  was  now  said  that 
the  spirit  is  the  highest  thing,  and  not  the  feeling  or  the 
understanding;  and  while  the  speculative  philosophy  over- 
taxed itself  in  representing  the  philosophy  of  the  spirit  on 
the  principles  of  the  natural  philosophy,  Goethe,  a  man  whom 
many  call  the  prophet  of  the  spirit  of  the  later  age,  went 
ahead  in  the  department  of  art.  This  remark  leads  us  to 
consider  him  more  closely. 

Though  our  preliminary  remarks  make  Goethe's  relation 
to  Schelling  similar  to  that  in  which  Schiller  stood  to  Kant, 
we  do  not  mean  thereby  that  Goethe  was  as  dependent  on 
Schelling's  system  as  Schiller  was  for  a  time  on  Kant's. 
Goethe  was  too  free,  peculiar,  great  and  superior,  in  short, 
too  very  intellectual,  ever  to  become  the  imitator  of  a  system. 


254 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


As  for  his  philosophical  sympathies,  he  appeared  at  first 
desirous  of  forming  a  hearty  relation  with  Jacobi,  who,  after 
his  first  interview  with  Goethe  in  Cologne,  flattered  himself 
that  he  had  found  in  him  the  man  he  needed,  and  hoped 
that  a  truly  intimate  and  eternal  relation  would  bind  them 
together.1  They  stood  on  the  most  friendly  footing  with 
each  other,  although  their  natures  were  very  different;  but 
a  disagreement  afterward  took  place.  Jacobi  dedicated  to 
Goethe  his  Woldemar,  with  the  most  hearty  and  earnest  as- 
surances of  friendship,  though  the  latter  had  already  cooled 
toward  him ;  and  just  what  was  the  great  essential  in  Jacobi, 
— a  conscientious  return  within  himself,  a  listening  to  him- 
self, the  observation  of  his  own  spiritual  and  sensuous  life, — 
was  repugnant  to  Goethe.2  "The  disposition  to  watch  the 
spirit  passing  through  its  own  operations  seemed  to  him," 
says  Gervinus,  "a  disease,  even  in  his  extreme  old  age;  he 
commended  his  own  wisdom  in  never  thinking  or  having 
thought  on  thinking  in  order  to  think;  this  was  to  him  dis- 
sipation of  the  mind,  a  result  of  ennui  and  unprofitable  com- 
pany. The  stiff  boots  of  logic  and  the  grey  finger  of  meta- 
physics, and,  indeed,  everything  not  connected  with  the  green 
tree  of  life,  were  repulsive  to  him,  and  he  confessed  frequently 
and  with  pleasure  that  he  did  not  discover  in  himself  the 

1  See  Gervinus,  Yol.  IV.  p.  536. 

2  A  good  statement  of  Goethe's  relation  to  Jacobi  is  given  in  the 
Gespräche  mit  Eckermann  (p.  242  f.),  but  especially  in  the  subsequently 
published  Briefwechsel  already  cited.  Goethe  had  declared  that  the 
difference  between  the  two  consisted  in  Jacobi's  being  a  Christian  and 
his  (Goethe)  being  a  heathen;  in  reply  to  which,  Jacobi  reminds  his 
old  friend  that  his  truly  "Julian  hatred"  of  Christianity,  and  of  all 
the  prominent  Christians  whom  he  brought  with  him  to  Pempelfort  in 
1792,  had  there  moderated,  so  that,  finally,  there  was  little  wanting  to 
prevent  his  saying  with  the  chamberlain  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles : 
"What  doth  hinder  me  to  be  baptized?"  "You  confess  that  a  certain 
Christianity  is  the  climax  of  benevolence;  and  as  I  preferred  your 
heathendom  to  that  kind  of  Christianity  hated  by  you,  which  I  also  do 
not  like,  so  did  you,  on  the  other  hand,  prefer  to  your  own  heathendom 
a  form  which  you  called  my  Christianity,  yet  without  being  able  to 
appropriate  it."   (Jacobi's  Letter  to  Goethe,  1815).    See  Briefw.,  p.  273. 


goethe's  dislike  of  jacobi's  philosophy.  255 

slightest  relation  to  philosophy  in  its  strict  sense.1  He  was 
as  zealous  in  warning  against  self-knowledge  as  he  had  been 
in  cautioning  against  a  knowledge  of  others.  He  held  that 
the  'Know  Thyself  contains  a  contradiction,  and  that  he  who 
looks  into  his  own  breast  'is  just  as  badly  off  in  his  skin  as 
he  who  watches  his  own  brains.'"2 

But  he  not  only  disliked  this  philosophy  established  on 
self-knowledge,  as  represented  in  Jacobi,  but  also  that  system 
which  made  the  world  its  object  instead  of  our  own  Ego,  so 
long  as  that  system  moves  with  the  stiffness  over  which 
Mephistopheles  in  Faust  makes  himself  merry.  "  He  detested 
all  who  made  a  world  of  their  own  out  of  error,  and  foolishly 
bothered  themselves  writh  speculations;  well  knowing  how 
opinions  continually  change  with  a  life  that  ever  keeps  young, 
he  laughed  at  the  schools,"  etc.3  But  with  all  Goethe's 
studiously  shunning  (because  of  his  sound  taste)  the  ambigu- 
ous and  quaint  form  that  called  to  mind  the  old  scholasticism, 
his  view  of  life  was  nevertheless  most  intimately  connected 
with  it  as  exhibited  in  Schelling's  system.  He  even  confessed 
that  he  belonged  to  the  school  of  identity,  and  was  born  to 
it.4  He  also  looked  upon  life  as  it  exhibits  itself,  as  one; 
spirit  and  sensation,  God  and  nature,  the  world  within  and 
the  world  without,  and  form  and  matter,  were  to  him  one 
and  the  same.  His  study  of  nature,  in  which  he  engaged 
particularly  in  his  later  life,  was  sustained  and  directed  by 
this  idea;  he  thought  that  his  doctrine  of  color  would  sup- 
plant the  mechanical  notion  of  light;  by  morphology  (the 
doctrine  of  metamorphoses),  so  called  by  him,  he  sought  to 
introduce  into  science  the  view  of  nature  as  a  living,  organic 
essence;  and  as  for  God's  relation  to  the  world,  the  ultra- 
mundane God  was  of  more  importance  to  Goethe  than  the 
supermundane. 

1  Comp.  Gespräche  mit  Eckermann,  Vol.  II.  p.  55:  "I  have  always 
avoided  philosophy;  the  standpoint  of  the  sound  human  understanding 
was  also  mine." 

2  Vol.  V.  p.  122.   Comp.  Gespräche  mit  Eckermann,  pp.  132,  133. 

3  Gervinus,  Vol.  V.  p.  122.  Comp.  Gespräche  mit  Eckermann,  Vol.  III. 
pp.  123,  124.  Comp.  p.  222.  4  Briefwechsel  mit  Zelter,  Vol.  II.  p.  65. 


256 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


"What  were  a  God  who  only  lets  the  universe, 

As  it  revolves,  but  barely  touch  his  finger-end? 

God  sees  it  far  the  best  to  move  the  world  within, 

Nature  in  Him,  and  Him  in  nature  to  comprise; 

And  thus,  whate'er  in  Him  that  lives,  and  moves,  and  is, 

Ne'er  feels  the  absence  of  his  Spirit  or  His  strength." 

Goethe's  moral  view  is  also  connected  with  this  idea.  The 
moral  world  is  to  him  an  active  play  of  the  most  varied 
forces;  all  conflict  with  sin  is  only  necessary  development,  a 
requisite  point  of  transition.  To  him,  all  contraries  are  solved 
and  no  more  exist,  and  the  maxim  which  we  may  regard  as 
the  shibboleth  of  the  new  philosophy,  that  "whatever  is,  is 
right,"  is  fully  expressed  in  Goethe's  Doing  and  Suffering. 
Schiller  strives  to  attain  to  the  ideal  of  virtue  as  something 
absent,  lying  far  beyond  us;  he  designates  "what  never  and 
nowhere  has  come  to  pass"  as  that  which  can  eternally 
satisfy  the  human  soul,  and  looks  longingly  to  other  con- 
ditions, now  back  into  the  Grecian  world,  and  now  forward 
into  better  times, — which  latter  Fichte,  too,  desired  so  much 
to  see.  But  Goethe  makes  himself  perfectly  at  home  in  the 
present;  his  ease  in  speaking  and  writing  is  natural  and 
innate;  no  political  or  religious  life,  or  quarrel  of  the  schools, 
or  anything  else,  ever  disturbs  him;  elevated  above  all  con- 
flict, he  reposes  in  the  lofty  repose  of  the  gods.  Hence  the 
celebrated  objectivity,  transparency,  finish,  inward  harmony 
and  outward  completeness  of  his  masterpieces,  all  of  which 
bear  the  stamp  of  perfect,  and  not  of  affected  or  imitated 
naturalness,  of  a  nature  as  though  newly  created,  and  born 
of  the  mind,  so  that  if  a  worship  of  genius  were  admissible, 
there  would  certainly  be  a  temptation  to  worship  in  Goethe 
a  personification  of  the  creative  principle.  The  present  life, 
which  commends  to  us  the  new  philosophy,  and  is  just  in 
the  most  recent  time  gaining  more  panegyrists  who  renounce 
a  future  life,  has  its  herald  in  Goethe.  "Let  us  not  console 
each  other  by  holding  out  the  future  life,"  he  wrote  in  1775 
to  the  Countess  Juliana  von  Stolberg,  "and  let  us  still  be 
happy  here!"1 

1  Yet  in  the  Gespräche  mit  Eckermann,  and  elsewhere,  he  speaks  the  reverse. 


GOETHE  REPRESENTING  THE  WORLDLY  SENTIMENT.  257 

While  the  period  since  the  Reformation  had  assigned  the 
first  place  to  the  knowledge  of  God  and  the  prospect  of  a 
future  woild,  and  all  temporal  matters  undertaken  were 
linked  in  some  way  to  heaven,  and  while  this  supremacy  of 
the  divine  contemplation  of  affairs  became  even  an  extreme, 
so  that  men  regarded  this  world  as  a  vale  of  tears,  and  had 
more  taste  for  abstract  doctrinal  controversies  than  for  what 
enables  us  to  lead  a  proper  life  on  earth,  the  new  period 
was  distinguished  by  just  the  opposite  mode  of  thinking,  by 
which  the  knowledge  of  the  world  was  made  preeminent,  and 
all  effort  was  directed  to  becoming  so  beautifully  and  com- 
fortably settled  here  as  even  to  forget  heaven.  And  we 
know  no  poet  who  more  fully  expressed  this  disposition  than 
Goethe.    It  is  perfectly  from  this  worldly  feeling  that  he  sings: 

"How  sweet  indeed  it  is, 
On  this  dear  earth  to  stay! 
Therefore  I  make  a  vow, 
Ne'er  to  be  torn  away!1' 

We  should  misconceive  such  poems  of  Goethe,  and  others 
that  he  composed  with  similar  ease,  if  we  regarded  them 
as  the  bald  expression  of  a  rough  and  common  worldliness, 
directed  only  to  the  senses.  Every  one  who  understands 
pleasantry  will  see  the  meaning  concealed  beneath  the  words 
of  such  apothegms  and  songs.  It  is  said  that  they  express 
the  triumph  of  genius  over  all  morose  prejudice,  and  the 
released  mind's  easy  and  free  disregard  of  the  pressure  of 
the  outward  world  and  its  narrow  relations;  besides,  these 
poems  are  highly  poetical,  in  spite  of  all  their  apparent 
trivialness.  Goethe's  poetic  sentiment  asserts  itself  in  finding 
grandeur  in  the  smallest  things,  the  whole  and  the  universal 
in  the  special  and  individual,  and  the  most  important  in  the 
apparently  insignificant:  and,  indeed,  everything  that  he 
touches  with  his  magic  wand  he  knows  how  to  transform 
into  a  poetic  being,  and  one,  too,  of  his  own  kind.  And,  in 
fact,  there  is  far  more  real  poetry  in  the  receding  wave  and 
in  the  bird  flying  above  us,  —  an  image  of  eternity,  a  wonder- 
ful relation  of  natural  life  to  our  spiritual  life,  —  than  if  one 


258 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


would  first  have  to  station  a  heavenly  ladder,  and  climb  from 
star  to  star,  in  order  to  seize  a  divine  idea. 

In  this  respect  Schiller  is  quite  different  from  Goethe. 
We  behold  effort  in  the  former;  he  sparkles,  and  glows,  and 
is  out  of  breath,  after  having  pursued  the  heavenly  goddess, 
who  flees  ever  from  him;  but  in  Goethe  everything  comes  of 
itself,  and  every  respiration  is  a  complete  poem.  But  Goethe's 
view  of  the  world,  in  spite  of  all  its  highly  poetic  value,  is 
seductive  if  we  make  it  the  groundwork  of  morals  and  religion, 
or  seek  the  true  and  permanent  reconciliation  of  heaven  and 
earth  in  the  "worldly  gospel  of  poetry,"  or  hope  with  him 
that  "inward  cheerfulness  and  outward  ease  shall  deliver  us 
from  our  earthly  burdens."  To  such  happy  natures  as  Goethe's 
was,  this  view  of  the  world  may  be  very  satisfactory;  but 
the  unhappy  man  can  no  more  find  rest  in  it  than  he  who 
is  pained  by  the  misfortune  and  misery  of  others.  The 
beautiful  marble  creation  of  art  may  give  us  exquisite  pleas- 
ure so  long  as  we  look  at  it  from  the  sculptor's  scaffolding, 
but  how  soon  do  we  shudder  at  its  intolerable  coldness  when 
we  grasp  it,  in  hope  of  feeling  on  its  breast  the  throbs  of  a 
sympathetic  heart!  No  one  can  better  establish  us  in  this 
conviction  than  Goethe  himself,  when  he  sings: 

"God  pointed  out 
A  path  for  every  man; 
Swiftly  the  fortunate 
Fulfill  His  blissful  plan. 
But  when  misfortunes  sore 
A  human  heart  o'ertake, 
No  effort  can  avail 
Their  brazen  thread  to  break. 
Only  death  that  thread  can  sever, 
And,  once  done,  'tis  done  for  ever. 

Fortune's  bright  chariot 
'Tis  easy  to  follow; 
And  then  with  great  comfort, 
The  glad  heart  doth  o'erflow, 
That  the  best  place  to  gain 
Is  in  the  princely  train. 


RELATION  OF  GOETHE  AND  SCHILLER  TO  CHRISTIANITY.  259 


But  who  heals  his  pain, 
Whose  sweetest  balm  was  bane? 
Who  drank  for  him  the  draft 
Who  aimed  the  deadly  shaft? 
The  chain  is  broken  now, 
And  on  the  cheek  no  glow; 
His  secret  life  is  passed 
In  worshipping  the  waste 
Which  he  must  call  himself.H 

We  must  leave  to  others  the  task  of  drawing  a  parallel  be- 
tween Schiller  and  Goethe  in  respect  to  poetry.1  But  we  are 
obliged  to  compare  the  two  heroes  of  German  literature  in 
relation  to  their  position  to  Christianity.  Opinions  differ  very 
widely  in  this  respect,  too.  While  there  are  people  who 
bluntly  reject  both  poets  as  unchristian,  Goethe,  quite  re- 
markably, has  found  more  favor  than  Schiller  in  the  eyes  of 
those  who  are  accustomed  to  take  a  strict  view  of  Chris- 
tianity, while  the  reverse  is  but  seldom  the  case.  It  depends 
on  what  we  make  the  standard  of  Christianity,  —  whether  it 
is  knowledge,  the  will,  or  inclination.  Goethe  stands  un- 
questionably higher  in  Christian  knowledge  than  Schiller,  in 
so  far  as  he  exhibits  a  more  comprehensive  spirit,  and  less 
clouded  by  scholastic  prejudices.  For  example,  he  could  do 
far  more  justice  than  the  often  passionately  excited  Schiller 
to  sacred  history  and  Christian  doctrines.  How  else  could 
the  man  in  whose  hands  everything  acquired  a  living  form, 
take  the  universal  historical  phenomenon  of  Christianity  into 
this  formative  process,  and  work  it  up  into  his  great  world- 
image?2  What  an  abundance  of  profound  Christian  views  is 
presented  in  Faust!  What  a  sense  for  the  finest  shades  of 
Christian  life  in  the  Confessions  of  a  Beautiful  Soul!  To  him, 

1  It  is  well  known  that  at  first  they  were  repulsive  to  each  other, 
but  were  subsequently  united  in  the  most  intimate  friendship.  Goethe 
appears  grand  in  his  relation  to  Schiller.  Schiller  had  to  be  handled 
by  him  like  an  egg  out  of  its  shell.  Compare  Schiller's  expressions  in 
his  Briefioechsel  mit  Körner,  Vol.  II.  p.  53. 

8  I  will  not  here  record  all  the  passages  from  Goethe  in  favor  of 
Christianity.  Comp.  Gelzer,  p.  290,  and  the  collection  entitled  GoetJie's 
Philosophie,  by  Schütz,  Vol.  III.    (Section  on  Religion). 


2G0 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


even  the  Moravian  conception  of  Christianity  is  right  in  its 
place,  as  is  proved  by  his  intercourse  with  the  witty  Miss 
Von  Klettenberg.  What  healthy  and  correct  opinions  on  the 
great  worth  of  the  Bible  and  its  educational  importance  stand 
before  us  in  his  Autobiography,  in  part  also  in  his  scattered 
remarks  on  the  Doctrine  of  Colors,  and  especially  in  his  Con- 
versations with  Eckermann!  To  present  an  example,  can 
stronger  language  be  uttered  against  scoffers  at  the  Bible 
than  that  by  Goethe:  "The  higher  the  centuries  advance  in 
knowledge,  the  more  can  the  Bible  be  used  in  part  as  the 
foundation  and  in  part  as  the  instrument  of  education,  though 
not  by  imprudent,  but  by  truly  wise  men?"1  And  there  are 
many  similar  expressions  to  this.  Indeed,  we  are  sure  that 
recent  Christian  apologetics  can  adduce  from  Goethe's  writings 
far  more  proofs  than  from  Schiller,  in  whom  heresy  is  dis- 
cernible almost  everywhere. 

Goethe  likewise  showed  himself  practical  in  the  practical 
department,  where  the  question  is  an  understanding  of  existing 
relations,  while  Schiller  often  proved  himself  unpractical. 
While,  for  example,  Schiller  imagined  that  the  world  could 
be  improved  by  the  theater,  and  recommended  the  stage  as 
a  moral  institution,  as  though  a  second  church,  and  while, 
as  we  have  already  seen,  after  such  assertions  many  clergy- 
men of  Schiller's  period  really  introduced  poetical  phrases 
and  theatrical  declamation  into  the  pulpit,  Goethe  censured 
this  nonsense  in  the  most  masterly  manner  in  his  Faust. 
Wagner  says  to  Faust: 

"I've  heard  it  said, 
An  actor  might  give  lessons  to  a  priest." 

Faust  answers: 

"Yes!  when  yonr  priest's  an  actor,  as  may  happen." 

And  then  continues: 

"If  feeling  does  not  prompt,  in  vain  yon  strive; 
If  from  the  soul  the  language  does  not  come, 
By  its  own  impulse,  to  impel  the  hearts 
Of  hearers,  with  communicated  power, 

1  Aus  meinem  Lelen,  Vol.  I.  Book  4. 


goetiie's  derision  of  artistic  preaching.  2G1 

In  vain  you  strive  —  in  vain  yon  study  earnestly. 

Toil  on  for  ever;  piece  together  fragments; 

Cook  up  your  broken  scraps  of  sentences, 

And  blow,  with  puffing  breath,  a  struggling  light, 

Glimmering  confusedly  now,  now  cold  in  ashes; 

Startle  the  school-boys  with  your  metaphors; 

And,  if  such  food  may  suit  your  appetite, 

Win  the  vain  wonder  of  applauding  children  I 

But  never  hope  to  stir  the  hearts  of  men, 

And  mould  the  souls  of  many  into  one, 

By  words  which  come  not  native  from  the  heartl" 

Wagner  now  replies: 

"Expeession,  graceful  utterance,  is  the  first 
And  best  acquirement  of  the  orator. 
This  do  I  feel,  and  feel  my  want  of  itl" 

To  this,  Faust  rejoins: 

aBe  honest,  if  you  would  be  eloquent; 
Be  not  a  chiming  fool  with  cap  and  bells; 
Reason  and  genuine  feeling  want  no  arts 
Of  utterance  —  ask  no  toil  of  elocution; 
And  when  you  are  in  earnest,  do  you  need 
A  search  for  words?  Oh!  these  fine  holyday  phrases, 
In  which  you  robe  your  worn-out  commonplaces; 
These  scraps  of  paper  which  you  crimp  and  curl 
And  twist  into  a  thousand  idle  shapes, 
These  filigree  ornaments  are  good  for  nothing, 
Cost  time  and  pains,  please  few,  impose  on  no  one; 
Are  unrefreshing,  as  the  wind  that  whistles, 
In  Autumn,  'mong  the  dry  and  wrinkled  leaves.'* 

In  these  few  words  Goethe  has  comprised  more  homiletical 
wisdom  than  can  be  found  in  many  an  elaborate  theory  of 
pulpit  eloquence.  He  likewise  exhibits  a  reliable  discernment 
in  matters  relating  to  public  service.  He  himself  had  the 
correct  feeling  that,  of  all  his  many  poems,  not  one  would 
be  in  place  in  a  Lutheran  hymn-book.1  Every  confusion  of 
the  profane  and  sacred  was  repulsive  to  his  sound  taste« 
"A  music,"  he  says  among  other  things  (in  Wilhelm  Meistens 
Pilgrimage),  "which  mixes  sacred  and  profane  character  is 

1  Gespräche  mit  EcJcermann,  Vol.  I.  p.  282. 


2G2 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


ungodly,  and  a  half-shorn  music,  which  takes  pleasure  in  ex- 
pressing weak,  miserable,  and  pitiable  inventions;  it  is  insipid, 
for  it  is  not  serious  enough  to  be  sacred,  while  cheerfulness, 
the  prime  character  of  the  opposite,  is  wanting  in  it."  How 
tender  and  delicate,  and  quite  from  a  Christian  view  of  life, 
is  the  remark  in  his  Elective  Affinities,  that  the  celebration 
of  a  wedding  should  always  be  strictly  serious,  and  that  there- 
fore stillness  is  far  more  becoming  on  such  occasions  than 
noisy  show.1 

We  repeat  it,  therefore,  that  wherever  the  question  depends 
on  a  correct  understanding  of  Christian  matters,  we  find  in 
Goethe  spiritual  glimpses  that  we  fail  to  see  in  Schiller  in 
equal  definiteness.  But  if  understanding  is  not  the  only 
standard  of  Christianity,  but  rather  the  heart's  acquiescence 
and  appropriation,  we  might  almost  believe  (without  thereby 
doing  injustice  to  Goethe)  that  Schiller  experienced  at  times 
deeper  Christian  emotions  than  Goethe.  You  remember  those 
Morning  Thoughts  of  Schiller, — that  struggling  for  truth,  and 
for  certainty  in  religious  matters.  We  meet  with  no  such 
conflicts  in  Goethe's  life.  When  still  a  boy,  he  doubted  many 
things  in  the  Bible,2  and  desired  information  on  them  from 
his  religious  teacher;  but,  as  he  himself  says,  he  was  more 
concerned  to  bring  forward  his  doubt  than  to  have  it  solved; 
and  his  religious  instructor  knew  no  other  way  to  get  out 
of  the  difficulty  than  by  exclaiming,  with  a  convulsive  laugh: 
"Foolish  fellow!"  "Foolish  lad!"  And  with  this  the  matter 
rested.  Goethe,  in  his  subsequent  youth,  undoubtedly  ex- 
perienced much  disturbance  in  his  inward  life,  and  it  cost 
him  a  powerful  struggle  to  place  himself  in  that  quiet,  com- 
manding relation  to  the  world  which  he  maintained  in  his 
riper  years.  Yet  the  conflict  was  not  religious,  but  the 
struggle  of  genius  impetuously  striving  against  the  ordained 
relations  of  the  natural  and  moral  world,  and  comparable  to 
a  titanic  assault,  which  gains  heaven  by  its  own  divine  strength. 

1  Schiller,  on  the  contrary,  speaks  very  frivolously  of  his  own  mar- 
riage; he  calls  it  "a  very  amusing  scene."  Comp.  Briefw.  mit  Körner, 
Vol.  II-  p.  171. 

2  Aus  meinem  Leben,  4th  Book.   ( Werke,  Vol.  XXIV.  p.  203.) 


MORAL  CONTRAST  BETWEEN  GOETHE  AND  SCHI.  LEB.  2G3 

But  Goethe  soon  reached  the  bank  after  the  "nocturnal 
storm."  He  boasts  of  himself  that,  though  thoroughly  drench- 
ed, he  dried  himself,  and  the  next  morning,  when  the  glorious 
sun  again  beamed  down  upon  the  resplendent  waves,  the  sea 
was  once  more  hungry  for  figs.1 

Neither  Schiller's  nor  Goethe's  life  was  free  from  moral 
errors;  but  Goethe  passed  them  over  more  easily,  and 
Schiller's  moral  struggle  was  unquestionably  more  earnest 
than  Goethe's.2  Goethe  would  never  be  a  saint  of  any  kind, 
but  he  was  just  as  far  from  being  wicked  and  impious.  Piety, 
according  to  his  own  words,  was  not  to  him  the  purpose  of 
life,  but  rather  a  means  of  reaching  the  highest  culture 
through  the  most  perfect  rest  of  the  mind.3  Goethe's  great 
fundamental  principle  was  to  preserve  moderation  in  all 
things,  as  in  art  so  also  in  morals  and  religion.  And  this 
explains  his  hostile  position  toward  immoderate  illuminism, 
which  appeared  to  him  as  immoderate  piety,  as  religious  ex- 
travagance. It  is  significant  that  Goethe,  when  a  young  man, 
was  friendly  to  Stilling  and  Lavater,  and  defended  their  cause 
against  the  illuminists.  No  one  jeered  better  and  more 
acutely  than  he  at  the  insipidity  of  the  illuminists,  such  as 
Bahrdt,  with  his  Translation  of  the  Bible,  Nicolai,  with  his 
hasty  criticism,  Basedow,  with  his  visionary  projects  and  in- 
tricate neology.  But  it  was  rather  insipidity  than  ungodliness 
which  Goethe  opposed  in  these  men,  and  he  never  liked  to 
enter  upon  a  thorough  discussion  of  religious  subjects.  In  a 
circle  of  pious  friends  he  was  always  frolicsome  and  relaxed; 
and  after  Lavater  and  Basedow  had  quarrelled  themselves 
tired  on  theological  subjects,  he  sang  in  his  own  peculiar  way: 

"Prophets  right,  prophets  left, 
The  world-child  in  the  middle!" 

1  An  allusion  to  a  Grecian  proverb.  See  Briefwechsel  mit  Körner. 
(Werke,  Vol.  II.  p.  44.) 

2  Schiller  blames  Goethe  for  being  destitute  of  heartiness  enough  to 
profess  anything.  "His  philosophy  derives  too  much  from  the  sensuous 
world,  while  I  draw  from  the  soul.  His  mode  of  view  is  too  sensuous 
and  tangible  for  me."    Briefw.  mit  Kömer,  Vol.  II.  p.  207. 

3  Wilhelm  Meister'*  Wanderjahre.   {Werke,  Vol.  XXIII.  p.  256.) 


2G4 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


It  is  impossible  to  state  in  better  language  his  position  between 
the  conflicting  theological  parties.  Therefore  it  must  not  ex- 
cite our  surprise  if  the  same  Goethe  who  censured  the  illu- 
minists,  should  use  strong  language  against  such  Christianity 
as  Lavater  exemplified;  for  the  religious  difference  between 
him  and  Lavater,  and  the  impossibility  of  uniting  their  points 
of  view,  subsequently  became  constantly  clearer.  "In  my 
father's  drug-store,"  Goethe  wrote  to  Lavater,  in  October, 
1782,  "there  are  many  prescriptions;  my  plaster  has  no 
effect  on  you,  and  yours  has  none  on  me."1  Three  years 
previously  he  had  proposed  to  his  friend,  "not  to  bother 
each  other  about  their  private  religions."2  In  the  same  letter 
he  confessed  the  truth  of  the  five  senses,  and  in  another 
place  he  pities  Lavater  on  account  of  the  latter's  constant 
conflict  and  effort.  "Your  thirst  for  Christ,"  he  says,  "has 
grieved  me;  you  are  worse  off  than  we  heathen,  for  our 
gods  do  appear  to  us  when  we  need  them."3 

In  another  letter  Goethe  frankly  said,  that  he  was  not  un- 
christian, nor  anti christian,  but  a  non-christian,  and  this  word 
better  describes  his  position  toward  Christianity  than  we  can 
do  it.4  He  regarded  it  a  foolish  procedure  to  violently 
assail  it  with  the  fanaticism  of  Voltaire,  for  he  had  a  more 
profound  view  of  history  than  that  infidel;  but  he  thought 
it  very  narrow  to  confine  one's  self  to  Christianity,  and  to 
find  everything  in  it.  He  liked  to  see  Christianity  in  natures 
specially  organized  for  it ;  and  it  was  even  interesting  to  him 
so  long  as  it  served  as  a  subject  of  observation,  just  as  a 

1  See  Briefe  von  Göihe  und  Lavater,  published  by  H.  Hirzel.  Leipzig, 
1833.   p.  152. 

2  Idem,  p.  45. 

3  In  a  letter  dated  the  8th  of  January,  1777,  in  Hegner's  Beiträge  zur 
nähern  Kennt niss  Lavater3 s.   Leipzig,  1836.   p.  91. 

4  Dated  July,  1782,  in  Hegner,  p.  147.  —  Comp,  also  his  subsequent 
declaration  to  Fr.  H.  Jacobi,  in  1813.  "As  a  poet  and  artist,  I  am  a 
polytheist,  but  as  a  student  of  natural  science,  on  the  contrary,  I  am 
a  pantheist;  and  I  am  one  just  as  decidedly  as  the  other.  If,  as  a 
moral  man,  I  need  a  God  for  my  personality,  that  is  already  cared  for. 
Heavenly  and  earthly  things  are  such  a  wide  realm,  that  only  the  organs 
of  all  beings  taken  together  can  conceive  it."   Briefic,  p.  2G1. 


goethe's  views  on  religion. 


2G5 


portrait  painter  is  absorbed  in  intently  watching  the  origi- 
nal who  sits  before  him;  and  Goethe  regarded  himself  as 
simply  the  observer  of  Christianity.  In  his  Werther  he  allows 
that  character  to  say:  "I  honor  religion;  I  feel  that  it  is  a 
staff  to  many  a  weary  one,  and  refreshment  to  many  a  lan- 
guishing one.  But  can  and  must  it  be  this  to  everybody?  If 
you  look  at  the  great  world,  you  will  see  thousands  to  whom 
it  was  not  and  will  not  be  a  support,  .  .  .  and  must  it 
be  one  to  me?  Does  not  the  Son  of  God  himself  say  that- 
only  they  are  to  be  his  whom  the  Father  has  given  to  him? 
Now,  am  I  given  to  him?  How  does  my  heart  tell  me  that 
the  Father  will  reserve  me  to  him?"  He  also  thus  writes  to 
Lavater:  "It  elevates  the  soul,  and  gives  occasion  for  the 
most  pleasant  reflections,  when  one  sees  you  holding  the 
grand  crystal  vessel  with  the  most  intense  glow  of  soul; 
filling  it  until  it  flows  over  with  your  own  deep-red  potion, 
and  again  quaffing  with  ecstacy  the  foam  flowing  down  from 
the  top.  I  grant  you  the  pleasure  of  enjoying  everything 
in  one  individual;  and,  notwithstanding  the  impossibility  of 
one  individual  to  satisfy  you,  it  is  glorious  that  an  image  is 
left  us  from  the  ancient  times  to  which  you  can  transfer  all 
you  have,  and  in  which  you  can  reflect  and  adore  yourself. 
But  I  can  call  it  nothing  less  than  unfairness  and  robbery 
for  you  to  gather  up  all  the  precious  feathers  of  the  many- 
colored  birds  under  the  heavens,  as  if  they  were  usurped, 
with  which  to  ornament  your  own  bird  of  paradise  exclusively ; 
this  must  necessarily  be  intolerable  and  disgusting  to  us 
who  resign  ourselves  as  the  disciples  of  every  wisdom  revealed 
through  man  and  to  man,  and  who,  as  sons  of  God,  worship 
him  in  ourselves  and  in  all  his  children."1 

1  Dated  June,  1781,  in  Hegner,  p.  141.  —  Comp,  with  this  the  letter 
of  August  9,  1782,  p.  147  f.  "You  regard  the  Gospel,  as  it  stands,  as 
the  most  divine  truth;  a  voice  from  heaven  would  not  convince  me 
that  water  burns,  that  fire  quenches,  that  a  woman  brings  forth  with- 
out a  man,  and  that  a  dead  one  is  raised.  On  the  contrary,  I  regard 
this  as  blasphemy  against  God  and  his  revelations  in  nature.  .  .  . 
You  find  nothing  more  beautiful  than  the  Gospel,  but  I  find  a  thousand 
written  leaves  of  former  and  recent  men,  who  have  been  favored  by 
God,  just  as  beautiful,  useful  and  indispensable." 


2G6 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


In  these  words  Goethe  expressed  the  same  thing  which 
Strauss  has  since  uttered,  that  nature  is  not  accustomed  to 
pour  out  its  whole  plenitude  in  one  individual.  Christ  was  to 
him,  therefore,  a  welcome  picture  from  early  times,  to  which 
every  one  might  unite  his  human  ideal,  and  in  which  every 
one  might  again  perceive  his  better  Ego;  but  he  was  not  to 
Goethe  the  only  one  in  whom  the  Spirit  infinitely  dwelt.  And 
thus  we  find  that  Goethe's  general  view  and  the  recent  specu- 
lative philosophy  meet  in  this  point,  for  we  have  observed 
the  same  thing  in  Fichte  and  Schelling. 

The  different  periods  of  youth,  middle  age  and  extreme  old 
age,  have  been  distinguished  in  Goethe's  literary  life,  the  first 
and  last  being  designated  as  those  in  which  the  poet's  heart 
was  more  accessible  to  religious  impressions  than  in  the 
middle  period;  hence  we  should  not  be  surprised  to  meet 
with  many  contradictions  in  his  life.  Yet  I  believe  that 
enough  of  them  can  be  found  in  each  of  these  periods.1  He 
says  somewhere: 

"The  world  is  full  of  contradictions, 
Why  then  may  not  a  book  be  too?" 

We  would  therefore  be  as  far  from  proving  as  accommodating 
these  contradictions;  our  chief  business  is  with  the  impression 
which  Goethe's  appearance  made  upon  his  times.  It  is  re- 
markable that,  although  he  was  born  before  Schiller,  Goethe's 
real  supremacy  over  the  mind  is  later,  and  his  reign  over 
the  intellectual  kingdom  had  to  be  preceded  by  that  of 
Schiller,  just  as  the  critical  philosophy  preceded  the  natural 
philosophy,  and  Rationalism  preceded  pantheism.  We  can  very 
well  observe,  in  the  course  of  German  literature  in  the  last 
decades,  how  the  enthusiasm  for  Schiller,  as  it  pervaded 
young  minds  some  forty  years  ago,  and  as,  for  example,  it 
assumed  a  new  flight  in  Theodore  Körner,  gradually  cooled 
off,  and  was  supplanted  more  and  more  by  the  remarkable 
Goethean  thinking,  which  easily  made  itself  at  home  in  life. 
Or  has  not  that  indefinite  and  unsatisfactory  enthusiasm  in 
an  imaginary  and  ideal  world,  which  fondly  concealed  itself 
1  Gelzer,  p.  255. 


RELIGIOUS  EFFECT  OF  GOETHE'S  VIEWS.  267 

in  the  starry  cloak  of  Schiller's  poetry,  gradually  given  way 
to  an  easy  state  of  mind,  which  wore  the  elegant,  shining 
ermine  of  inward  self-complacency  instead  of  the  starry 
mantle,  until  this  state  of  mind  was  in  turn  finally  supplanted 
by  that  of  satiety  (inflation),  of  falling  out  with  God  and  the 
world,  which  defiantly  meets  the  storm  in  its  torn  beggar's 
garment  as  if  it  were  a  royal  robe,  though  vanity  looks 
out  through  every  one  of  its  holes? 

This  is  the  course  taken  by  the  so-called  "worship  of 
genius":  first  overstraining,  then  relaxation,  and  finally  the 
great  "world-pain",  of  which  every  street-boy  now  knows 
how  to  sing.  And  as  the  excessive  worship  of  human  great- 
ness, when  it  does  not  meet  with  moderation  and  firmer 
support  in  the  adoration  of  the  only  true  God,  always  bears 
in  itself  the  germ  of  corruption,  so  was  it  in  the  present 
case.  The  aspiration  for  a  visionary  ideal,  and  the  notion  that 
we  have  already  acquired  what  we  do  not  yet  really  possess, 
are  of  equal  danger;  yet  it  is  well  to  take  heed  lest  the  last 
delusion  be  worse  than  the  first. 

Where  there  have  been  aspiration  and  conflict,  there  has  at 
least  always  been  a  point  of  connection  for  the  messenger 
of  salvation,  and  a  Paul  can  grow  out  of  the  Saul  zealously 
striving  for  his  ideal.  But  when  one  says:  "I  am  rich  and 
need  nothing,"  there  begins  in  spiritual  matters  just  that 
lukewarmness  of  which  we  read:  "I  would  thou  wert  cold  or 
hot."  This  lukewarm  religious  state,  this  unconcern  for  sal- 
vation which  is  willfully  gloried  in,  has  certainly  been  dis- 
seminated by  Goethe's  views  among  a  large  class  of  men. 
yet  through  no  fault  of  his,  but  of  his  blind  worshippers.  To 
the  profoundly  thoughtful  man  who  takes  a  hearty  interest 
in  God  and  divine  things,  many  of  Goethe's  words  must  cer- 
tainly serve  to  elaborate  and  finish  the  inward  man,  for  they 
contain  many  pearls  that  are  well  adapted  to  give  increased 
ornament  to  the  Christian,  provided  he  stands  on  the  step 
of  the  higher  culture.  But  he  whose  life  has  no  definite 
direction  will  hardly  get  it  first  from  Goethe.  Goethe  is  re- 
lated to  the  individual  man  and  his  moral  effort  just  as 
nature  or  a  work  of  art.   Both,  after  being  observed  and 

Vol.  II.— 18 


208 


IIISTOIIY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


understood,  can  serve  to  glorify  God  or  lead  to  idolatry. 
Nature  and  art  occupy  a  dumb  relation  in  respect  to  morals, 
and  the  same  is  the  case  with  Goethe.    His  motto  is: 

"If  but  in  things  thine  own  thou'rt  just, 
All  else  will  of  itself  come  right." 

But  things  do  not  come  right  of  themselves.  Goethe  was  as 
little  inclined  to  introspection  as  to  lead  others  to  it;  he 
teaches  man  to  set  himself  right  in  the  world,  and  here  every 
one  can  and  should  learn  of  him.  t  But  he  does  not  and  will 
not  appeal  to  conscience;  he  allows  every  one  to  do  as  he 
pleases.  This  undesigning  trait,  which  constitutes  the  char- 
acter of  a  real  work  of  art,  is  just  what  makes  Goethe  often 
appear  so  grand  in  contrast  with  the  petty  and  passionate 
urging  of  commonplace  fellows.1  At  times,  when  the  world 
would  draw  us  into  such  pressure,  we  may  be  very  much  re- 
freshed and  elevated  by  this  dispassionate  greatness;  but  I 
return  to  the  point,  that  there  is  a  great  difference  between 
one's  artistic  reflection  and  his  moral  mission.  While  the 
early  period  was  contracted  in  morals,  so  that  it  would  make 
even  art  their  servant,  Goethe  and  the  later  writers  have 
properly  set  up  art  as  a  power  independent  of  moral  and 
political  ends ;  but  as  men  very  easily  pass  from  an  error  to 
its  opposite,  so  did  they  here  begin  to  observe  morals  only 
with  artistic  eyes,  and  to  esteem  only  that  in  the  ethical 
world  which  produces  a  great  effect,  and  can  furnish  the 
material  for  a  drama  or  a  romance.  The  sense  for  quiet  and 
modest  virtue,  for  what  was  contemptuously  called  "civil 
morality,"  constantly  receded  into  the  background,  and  even 
the  integrity,  the  modesty,  and  honesty  of  the  plain  Christian 
appeared  to  be  only  the  narrowness  of  the  tradesman,  while 
everything  in  the  genius  was  tolerated. 

1  He  thus  writes  to  Fr.  H.  Jacobi  (1800):  "My  decided  hatred  of  fanati- 
cism, hypocrisy  and  arrogance,  and  even  of  the  truly  ideal  good  in 
man,  which  do  not  appear  pure  in  experience,  made  me  unjust.  Here, 
as  on  many  other  subjects,  we  are  taught  by  our  times,  and  we  learn 
that  true  estimation  cannot  be  without  forbearance."  Briefw.,  p.  220. 
Comp.  p.  260:  "Men  are  united  by  feelings,  but  separated  by  opinions." 


GENIUS  SUBJECT  TO  THE  UNIVERSAL  MORAL  LAW.  269 

This  has  been  shown  specially  in  the  estimates  placed  on 
Goethe,  whose  excessive  admirers  maintained  that  he  and 
men  of  similar  nature  (for  example,  Napoleon)  must  not  be 
measured  by  the  same  standard  of  morals  with  other  mortals.1 
But  just  here  we  come  to  the  putrid  spot  of  the  worship  of 
genius.  We  should  proceed  modestly  in  judging  great  men, 
and,  instead  of  indulging  in  petty  fault-finding,  rather  confess 
that,  though  we  may  not  have  many  of  their  errors,  we 
nevertheless  stand  far  behind  them  in  noble  virtues,  and 
that  it  is  often  only  our  mediocrity  which  keeps  us  close  in 
the  usual  path  of  duty,  while  they,  through  the  violent  pres- 
sure of  their  genius,  are  easily  thrown  beyond  the  track. 
We  should  always  bear  in  mind  that  a  single  great  thought 
and  deed  of  such  a  man  outweighs  a  thousand  of  our  well- 
meaning  commonplace  thoughts  and  trifling  performances. 
But  it  is  proper  for  us  to  ask,  whether  the  standard  that 
we  set  up  is  right;  whether  we  understand  the  men  whom 
we  would  judge;  and  whether  much  in  them  that  displeases 
us  would  not  appear  in  a  totally  different  light  if  we  looked 
at  it  in  its  proper  connection? 

This  distrust  of  our  own  perception,  and  this  shyness  of 
all  playing  the  pedagogue,  is  certainly  worthy  of  all  honor, 
and  far  removed  from  the  idolatrous  worship  of  genius ;  in- 
deed, Christianity  itself  requires  this  candor.  But  to  say 
that  great  minds  are  never  subject  to  the  general  moral  law, 
that  they  are  thoroughly  emancipated  from  it  as  favorites  of 
Deity,  that  they  bear  purely  in  themselves  the  standard  for 
judging  them,  that  they  are  tjieir  own  law,  and,  in  short, 
that  they  are  not  subject  to  the  divine  law  and  order,  is 

1  It  is  remarkable  that  this  principle  has  been  opposed  by  two  men 
of  perfectly  diverse  tendency:  Röhr,  in  his  Memorial  Address  on  Goethe, 
which,  unfortunately,  I  do  not  have  at  hand  now,  but  whose  contents 
I  think  that  I  remember;  and  J.  P.  Lange,  on  the  Liberation  of  Genius 
from  the  Law  (Beiträge  zu  der  Lehre  von  den  letzten  Dingen,  p.  1  ff.). 
Yet  Lange  himself  has  not  hesitated  to  publish  (anonymously)  a  Chris- 
tian anthology  from  Goethe's  writings:  Göthe's  religiose  Poesie,  kurzer 
Abriss  der  Theologie,  dargestellt  aus  Göthe's  poetischen  Werken,  für  Theologen, 
Theologie-Studirende  und  gebildete  Laien,  to  which  we  refer  our  readers. 


270 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


simply  to  deify  man;  and  I  beg  you  to  bear  in  mind  here, 
that  just  this  hero-worship  is  found  where  pantheism  has 
destroyed  faith  in  the  living,  personal  God.  Man,  where 
he  should  worship  and  adore,  cannot  be  contented  with  an 
empty,  general  idea;  he  ivill  and  must  adore  personality, 
and  where  the  personality  of  the  Creator  has  vanished  from 
him,  he  bestows  adoration  on  the  creature.  One  has  lived 
as  man  among  men  in  whom  the  fullness  of  the  Godhead 
has  dwelt  bodily;  and  it  is  just  of  this  One  that  we  read, 
that  he  "was  subject"  to  the  law,  that  he  obeyed  and  "ful- 
filled all  righteousness;"  and  therefore  God  has  elevated  him, 
and  "given  him  a  name  which  is  above  every  name,"  con- 
sequently above  the  highest  and  most  celebrated;  and  only 
that  which  is  joined  and  arranged  in  this  connection,  avails 
in  God's  kingdom.  The  greatness  of  the  name  is  not  thereby 
destroyed,  but  shines  forth  undisturbed  and  undiminished  as 
a  star  in  the  great  firmament,  as  an  emerald  in  the  throne 
of  the  Eternal. 

We  assert  this  also  in  relation  to  Goethe.  The  finest  and 
most  beautiful  things  written  by  Goethe  have  already  been 
received  in  this  connection,  and  while  the  Apostle  says  that 
"all  things  are  yours,"  Christianity,  in  the  strong  conscious- 
ness of  this  right,  has  also  turned  Goethe  to  use ;  and  truly 
his  more  sober  admirers  have  acted  more  in  the  sense  of 
the  great  poet  than  his  unskillful  and  immoderate  worshippers. 
Besides  other  sources,  we  can  learn  from  one  of  his  later 
Conversations  with  Eckermann,  how  high  the  master  himself 
stood  above  the  throng  of  his  disciples  who  deified  him.1 
"Every  productiveness  of  the  highest  kind,"  Goethe  says 

1  Yol.  III.  p.  236.  Also  in  his  earlier  Conversations  we  meet  with 
a  disapprobatory  declaration  on  the  prevalent  criticism  (Vol.  II.  p.  266), 
and  with  the  remarkable  passages  in  which  he  speaks  of  immortality. 
And,  however  strangely  and  acutely  he  declares  against  those  who 
speculate  unprofitably  on  the  future  (sentimentally,  as  was  the  fashion 
at  the  time  of  Tiedge's  Urania),  he  says  just  as  decidedly,  that  all 
who  are  dead  to  this  life,  hope  for  no  other  (Vol.  I.  p.  121).  Comp. 
Vol.  II.  p.  56,  where  he  also  bluntly  says,  that  the  Christian  religion 
is  mighty  in  itself,  elevated  above  all  philosophy,  and  needing  none  of 
its  props. 


GOETHES  INFORMAL  APPROACH  TO  CHRISTIANITY.  271 

here,  "  every  important  perception,  discovery,  and  great  thought 
which  produce  fruit  and  have  a  result,  are  subject  to  no  one's 
power,  and  are  elevated  above  all  earthly  force.  Man  should 
regard  such  things  as  unexpected  gifts  from  heaven,  as  the 
pure  children  of  God,  whom  he  should  receive  and  honor 
with  joyous  gratitude." 

We  occasionally  meet  with  such  expressions  in  the  life  of 
the  strange  man,  and  from  the  cold  and  apparently  stony 
breast  we  are  often  surprised  by  the  flashing  forth  of  a  flame 
of  profound  religious  feeling;  and  though  we  would  not  say 
with  a  Christian  philosopher,1  that  Goethe  has  proclaimed 
the  gospel  in  his  own  language,  yet  he  did  certainly  stand 
nearer  to  the  fundamental  convictions  of  the  gospel  by  the 
authority  of  an  unmerited  divine  grace  than  many  a  one  with 
his  formal  Christianity.  While  we  cannot  confess  that  we 
must  apply  to  Goethe  a  different  moral  standard  from  the 
one  we  would  use  in  estimating  others,  we  gladly  acknowledge 
that  the  ways  by  which  God  leads  such  men  are  frequently 
hidden  from  us.  A  declaration  of  Goethe  himself  to  Lavater 
has  a  remarkable  interest  for  us  just  here :  "  My  God,  to 
whom  I  have  remained  faithful,  has  richly  blessed  me  in 
secret,  for  my  fate  is  perfectly  concealed  from  men ;  they  can 
neither  see  nor  hear  anything  of  it;  but  I  delight  to  place 
in  your  heart  what  can  be  revealed  of  it."2 

In  conclusion,  let  me  take  one  passage  from  his  last  Con- 
versation with  Eckermann:  "Let  intellectual  culture  continue 
to  progress,  let  the  natural  sciences  increase  in  breadth  and 
depth,  and  let  the  human  mind  enlarge  as  it  will,  it  will 
never  get  beyond  the  loftiness  and  moral  education  of  Chris- 
tianity as  it  sparkles  and  shines  forth  in  the  Gospels." 3 

1  Göschel,  in  his  Unterhaltungen  zur  Göthe'schen  Dicht-  und  Denkweise, 
in  Geizer,  p.  255.  Note. 

2  In  the  year  1779,  in  Hirzel,  p.  39.  Comp,  the  passage  in  the  letter 
of  1781,  in  Hegner,  p.  138:  "I  am  infinitely  purified  within,  and  yet 
I  willingly  admit  that  God  and  Satan,  heaven  and  hell,  which  you  de- 
scribe so  beautifully,  are  in  me." 

3  Vol.  in.  p.  373. 


LECTURE  XIV. 


GOETHE'S  ATTITUDE  TOWARD  PROTESTANTISM.  —  THE  ROMAN- 
TICISTS.—  THEIR  RELATION  TO  PANTHEISM,  AND  PARTIAL 
INCLINATION  TO  CATHOLICISM.  —  NOVALIS.  —  LA  MOTTE 
FOUQUE\ 

Goethe's  relation  to  Christianity  is  a  subject  which  can  be 
extended  much  further  than  we  have  done  in  the  last  lecture. 
With  his  twofold  nature,  of  which  he  himself  was  conscious, 
— his  profound  knowledge  and  his  light  and  often  frivolous 
manner, — so  much  can  be  said  for  and  against  him,  and  the 
subject  can  be  looked  at  from  such  varied  points  of  view, 
that  at  one  time  we  are  just  as  much  surprised  at  the 
harmony  of  his  fundamental  views  with  those  of  Christianity 
as,  at  another,  we  are  repelled  by  his  seeming  coldness  or 
levity  in  passing  over  the  holiest  concerns.1  But  it  is  as  far 
from  our  purpose  to  pronounce  a  definite  opinion  on  Goethe 
as  it  has  been  on  Schiller,  Pestalozzi,  Fichte,  SchelliDg  and 
others.  We  have  had  merely  to  speak  of  what  Goethe  was 
to  his  times,  how  his  times  understood  and  received  him,  and 
how  the  Goethean  culture  operated  upon  the  last  century, 
but  especially  upon  the  present.  And  as  it  is  certain  that, 
next  to  the  recent  speculative  philosophy,  which  appeared  at 
the  end  of  the  eighteenth  and  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth 
centuries,  it  is  Goethe  who  principally  controlled,  and  still 
rules,  the  educated  world,  and  has  become  really  the  organ 
of  the  spirit  of  the  age. 

1  Compare  the  second  Note  on  the  preceding  page.  —  On  the  Mephis- 
tophelian  nature  which  Goethe  could  occasionally  exhibit,  see  Ecker- 
mann,  Vol.  in.  pp.  322—325. 


goethe's  attitude  toward  protestantism.  273 

But  we  should  miss  our  object  unless  we  examined  more 
minutely  Goethe's  attitude  toward  Protestantism.  He  was 
not  only  a  reformatory,  but,  to  use  his  own  expression  in 
his  own  sense,  a  productive  man,  for  he  has  created  a  new 
period,  especially  in  art;  and  though  this  does  not  seem  to 
be  connected  directly  with  the  ecclesiastical  Reformation,  we 
can  certainly  not  regard  it  as  a  mere  accident,  that  just  the 
men  who  were  called  to  give  a  new  flight  to  the  German 
literature  of  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries, — Lessing, 
Klopstock,  Herder,  Goethe,  —  came,  without  exception,  from  the 
bosom  of  the  Protestant  church,  as  was  the  case  in  philoso- 
phy with  Leibnitz,  Wolf,  Kant,  Fichte,  Schelling  and  Hegel. 
All  are  branches  of  the  same  stock.  Goethe  himself  must 
have  seen  this  connection,  as  is  plain  from  his  opinion  of 
Luther.  "Luther,"  he  thus  says  in  his  Conversations  with 
Eckermann,  "wTas  a  genius  of  a  very  important  kind;  he  will 
work  a  good  long  time,  and  the  number  of  the  days  in 
the  far  distant  centuries  when  he  will  cease  to  be  productive, 
is  incalculable."1  Goethe's  modesty  here  is  grand  and  touch- 
ing, compared  with  the  pigmy  race  of  the  new  reformers, 
who  believed  that  they  had  gone  far  beyond  Luther.  Goethe 
himself  best  casts  the  horoscope  of  this  race  in  a  letter  to 
Zelter,  in  1816:  "The  incredible  conceit  into  which  young 
people  are  now  grown,  will  be  manifested  in  a  few  years  in 
the  greatest  follies."  And  just  this  has  come  to  pass.2 

We  think  that  Goethe,  so  far  as  he  introduced  a  new 
period  into  the  history  of  the  German  language,  may  be  fitly 
compared  with  Luther.  What  Luther  became  to  the  church 
by  his  pithy  Scriptural  and  ecclesiastical  language,  Goethe 
has  become  to  the  world  and  to  society  by  his  plastic  rep- 

i  Vol.  III.  p.  229. 

8  Goethe  pronounced  a  truly  Protestant  opinion  on  the  so-called 
"Liberalism."  See  Gespräche,  Vol.  III.  p.  289:  "The  true  Liberal  seeks 
to  effect  as  much  good  as  he  can  by  the  means  at  his  command;  but 
he  is  careful  not  to  immediately  destroy  with  fire  and  sword  the  often 
unavoidable  defects.  He  takes  pains  gradually  to  supplant  public 
blemishes  by  judicious  progress,  but  without  at  the  same  time  destroy- 
ing just  as  much  good  by  violent  measures." 


274 


HISTORY  OF   THE  CHURCH. 


reservation,  by  his  perspicuous  language  of  the  world  and 
of  society.  They  may  be  unhesitatingly  placed  beside  each 
other  as  insurpassable  classic  models,  though,  of  course,  each 
in  his  own  way.  As  for  their  mode  and  tendency  of  life, 
Luther  and  Goethe  have  but  few  points  in  common;  and  to 
the  son  of  the  Frankfort  senator,  who  sits  in  the  bosom  of 
fortune  and  develops,  as  though  spontaneously,  amid  all  the 
cheerful  images  of  art,  the  miner's  son  and  the  Augustine 
monk  presents  as  remarkable  a  contrast  as  the  Wittenberg 
times  do  to  those  of  Weimar.  We  could  far  sooner  compare 
Schiller,  Herder,  Fichte,  or  similar  men  to  Luther  if  we  were 
required  to  name  those  who,  like  Luther,  fought  through  a 
severe  youth,  staked  their  life  for  an  idea,  and  would  have 
defied  a  world  of  devils  to  advance  light  and  right. 

Goethe  has  been  blamed  for  taking  as  good  as  no  interest 
in  the  great  political  struggle  of  Germany  with  its  op- 
pressors. He  has  been  compared  in  this  respect  to  the  fa- 
mous Erasmus,  in  his  reserve,  his  wit,  his  courtly  manner, 
and  his  favor  at  court.  Yet  it  occurs  to  us  that  Goethe  is 
placed  at  too  great  a  disadvantage  by  this  comparison.  Both 
were  the  greatest  celebrities  of  their  day;  but  in  Goethe 
there  was  something  fresher,  more  pithy,  and  more  healthy, 
— just  that  productiveness  which  he  perceived  in  Luther,  and 
therefore  was  a  legacy  from  Luther  himself.  We  meet  with 
one  period  in  particular  in  Goethe's  life  in  which  this  heir- 
loom operated  vigorously  in  him;  it  was  when  he  wrote  his 
Götz  von  Berlichingen,  in  which  he  paints  the  corruption  of 
his  times  in  the  most  glaring  colors.  "To  stake  life  for  the 
general  happiness,"  he  says,  "would  be  a  life  indeed!" 

At  a  later  date  Goethe  thought  differently  from  this,  but 
yet  he  took  a  correct  view  of  the  great  historical  meaning 
of  the  nature  of  Protestantism.  It  will  not  surprise  any  one 
that,  with  his  versatility,  he  knew  how  to  look  at  the 
historical  position  of  Catholicism,  and  that,  as  an  artist  and 
poet,  he  could  make  use  of  Catholic  forms;  and  even  his 
occasionally  avowed  preference  for  the  seven  Catholic  sacra- 
ments (because  he  thought  that  the  Protestant  service  had  too 
little  fullness  and  consistency  to  hold  minds  together)  must 


goetiie's  endorsement  of  protestantism. 


275 


be  excused  as  one  of  his  hobbies.1  He  was  certainly  not 
serious  in  the  Catholic  tendencies  that  some  have  attributed 
to  him.  Goethe  remained  a  Protestant,  with  a  full  and  sound 
heart,  and  more  than  once  took  his  own  way  for  deriding 
the  new  Catholic  poets  of  the  Romantic  school.2  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  would  never  be  earnest,  for  that  was  not  his 
nature.  He  was  tolerant  also  of  confessional  differences,  and 
even  expressed  this  tolerance  in  a  manner  of  evident  in- 
difference, as  in  the  verse: 

"  The  Pater  Noster  is  a  prayer 
"Which  helps  in  every  way; 
"When  one  the  Pater  Noster  prays, 
In  God's  name  let  him  pray!" 

But  when  he  was  collected,  and  showed  himself  seriously  as 
the  Goethe  to  whose  voice  the  age  was  listening,  he  spoke 
as  soundly  and  judiciously  of  Protestantism  and  its  essential 
principles  as  of  Christianity  in  general.  Thus,  on  the  occasion 
of  the  approaching  annual  Celebration  of  the  Reformation  in 
Germany  (1816\  he  declared  that  the  principal  idea  of  Luther- 
anism  is  well-founded,  for  it  rests  upon  the  decided  contrast 
of  the  law  and  the  gospel,  and  therefore  Lutheranism  can 
never  be  reunited  with  popery.  "  The  true  disposition,"  he 
thus  calls  Protestantism,  when  speaking  of  Frederick  Schle- 

1  Aus  meinem  Lehen.  Book  17.   "Werke  XXIII.  p.  117. 

2  For  example,  in  the  parable:  "In  a  city  where  equality,"  etc., 
Gedichte,  Vol.  II.  p.  222.  We  learn  from  his  own  confessions,  and  par- 
ticularly from  his  description  of  All  Souls'  Festival  (November,  1786), 
how  little  he  was  attracted  to  the  Romish  service  on  the  score  of  taste. 
"I  was  seized  b}'  a  wonderful  desire  that  the  chief-priest  should  open 
his  golden  mouth,  and,  speaking  rapturously  of  the  unutterable  salvation 
of  the  blessed,  put  us  in  ecstacy.  But  when  I  saw  him  moving  only 
to  and  fro  before  the  altar,  now  turning  on  this  side  and  now  on 
that,  behaving  and  mumbling  like  a  common  priest,  my  Protestant 
original  sin  stirred  me  up,  and  the  well-known  and  familiar  sacrifice  of 
the  mass  gave  me  no  pleasure  whatever." — In  another  passage  he  speaks 
of  "rude  and  quaint  heathendom."  —  He  pronounced  a  no  more  favorable 
opinion  on  Rome's  politics.  See  Gespräche  mit  Eclcermann,  Vol.  II.  pp.  98, 
111:  "The  Catholics  cannot  be  trusted;  they  do  not  agree  among  them- 
selves, but  always  hold  together  when  they  are  fighting  a  Protestant." 


27G 


HISTORY  OP  THE  CHURCH. 


gel's  uniting  with  the  Romish  church,  "has  spread  far,  and 
can  no  more  go  down,  though  it  may  be  modified  to  an  un- 
limited extent  by  individualities."1 

The  relation  in  this  respect  was  quite  different  with  Goethe 
from  what  it  was  with  the  Romantic  school,  which,  like  him, 
had  an  undeniable  affinity  with  the  philosophy  of  Schelling, 
except  that  Romanticism  appropriated  the  imaginative,  while 
Goethe,  with  his  great  wealth  of  native  imagination,  ap- 
propriated the  real  philosophical  essence,  but  not  the  thorny 
shell.  We  see  in  Romanticism,  on  the  one  hand,  in  contrast 
with  the  Rationalistic  tendencies,  a  return  to  the  positive,  or 
rather  to  the  presaging,  mysterious,  and  superabundant  under- 
lying the  positive;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  an  unmistakable 
inclination  in  part  to  pantheism  and  in  part  to  Catholicism. 

We  must  first  of  all  come  to  an  understanding  on  the 
character  of  the  Romantic  poetry,  whose  name  is  not  the 
most  definitive.2  It  has  been  asserted  that  the  real  nature 
of  the  Romantic  school  consists  in  its  having  led  poetry  and 
art  from  the  heathen  soil,  which  ft  had  so  long  held  in  fee, 
to  the  Christian  ground.  But  we  should  not  so  much  under- 
stand thereby  that  Christianity  was  comprised  in  Romanticism, 
and  that  what  is  opposed  to  it  is  unchristian,  as  that,  with 
Romanticism  alone,  true  Christianity  has  been  introduced  into 
the  hearts  of  poets,  and  of  the  people,  from  whom  it  had 
been  driven  by  heathen  poetry  and  art,  and  that  we  should 
only  need  to  profess  adherence  to  the  Romantic  school  to 
be  good  Christians.  But  it  almost  seems  that  many  at  that 
time  did  go  so  far.  The  assertion  that  Romanticism  is  naturally 
Christian  requires,  however,  great  qualification.  It  can  only 
be  so  if  we  think  of  the  form  of  Christian  poetry,  but  not 
of  the  matter,  and  still  less  of  the  peculiar  sentiment  of  the 
poet,  which  thereby  remains  quite  out  of  consideration.  But 

1  Comp.  Briefwechsel  mit  Zelter,  Vol.  I.  p.  328,  and  Vol.  IT.  p.  319. 

2  See,  on  the  abuse  of  the  word,  Goethe's  witty  opinions  in  the 
Gespräche  mit  Eckermann,  Vol.  IL  p.  92,  and  elsewhere.  The  epithet 
"Romantic"  has  since  been  used  for  all  possible  disagreeable  tendencies, 
as  Strauss  has  regarded  even  Julian  the  Apostate  as  the  "Romanticist 
on  the  throne  of  the  Caesars." 


ROMANTICISM  DESCRIBED. 


277 


as  for  the  form,  we  could  more  properly  speak  of  a  Middle 
Age  than  of  a  Christian  one.  No  one  will  number  the  Apos- 
tles or  the  Reformers  among  the  Romanticists,  and  call  the 
form  in  which  they  have  written  Romantic;  on  the  contrary, 
the  human  character  of  Scriptural  and  apostolical  Christianity 
rests  solely  upon  the  ancient  and  classic  ground,  as  the  New 
Testament  was  written  hi  the  Greek  language,  and  the  church 
lived  for  many  centuries  upon  this  supply  of  Grecian  and 
Roman  education.  Even  the  Church  Fathers  were  not  Ro- 
manticists, and  just  as  little  were  the  scholastic  theologians 
of  the  Middle  Ages ;  it  was  only  the  Mystics  who,  by  profound 
intensity  of  feeling  and  peculiar  figurative  language,  betrayed 
a  Romantic  tendency. 

Looking  at  the  Reformation,  we  see  how  it  had  been 
largely  prepared  by  the  reawakening  and  revivification  of  the 
classical  studies  of  antiquity.  We  are  therefore  referred  to 
the  Middle  Ages,  the  time  when  the  papacy  and  Roman 
Catholicism  acquired  their  greatest  respectability.  Romanti- 
cism derived  less  material  from  the  theology  of  this  period 
than  from  its  other  institutions, — knighthood,  monasticism, 
and  the  Crusades.  Romanticism  can  undoubtedly  be  called 
Christian  in  so  far  as  it  proceeded  from  an  externally  strength- 
ened (but  degenerated,  Catholicized  and  Romanized)  Chris- 
tianity. We  would  not  at  all  deny  that  the  profound  Chris- 
tian ideas  have  found  the  purest  poetical  expression  in  these 
forms.  We  need  only  call  to  mind  the  architecture  of  the 
Middle  Ages  and  the  elder  German  schools  of  painting.  Cer 
tainly,  the  general  Middle  Age  view  can  be  appropriately  called 
Christian,  when  placed  in  antithesis  to  ancient  and  classical 
heathendom,  because  it  rests  solely  on  Christian  traditions, 
is  historically  supported  by  Christianity,  and  is  even  pervaded 
by  its  intellectual  and  social  elements  of  education.  Now,  so 
far  as  most  of  the  German  poets,  from  Opitz  down  to  Schiller 
and  Goethe,  have,  in  their  poems  united  with  the  forms  of 
the  ancient  Grecian  and  Roman  world,  whether  with  or  with- 
out much  taste,  and  introduced  the  old  mythology  into  them, 
or,  like  Klopstock,  turned  from  the  Grecian  mythology  to 
the  old  German,  but  yet  on  the  other  hand  despised  rhyme, 


278 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


and  imitated  the  old  meter  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans, — so 
far  they  stood  formally  on  heathen  ground. 

But  this  does  not  declare  that  the  import  of  their  poems 
was  necessarily  heathenish.1  Some  of  those  poets,  though 
by  no  means  all,  undoubtedly  filled  their  poems  with  heathen 
matter.  Who  will  refuse  to  call  Bodmer,  Haller,  Klopstock, 
Cramer,  and  Geliert  Christian  poets  because  they  are  devoid 
of  the  Romantic  drapery,  have  adopted  the  old  meter,  either 
the  hexameter  or  the  Alexandrine,  and  have  strided  off  some- 
what stiffly  in  it?  According  to  this  theory,  even  the  great 
lyric  poets  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries, 
Flemming,  Paul  Gerhard  and  others,  would  have  to  be  ex- 
cluded from  Christianity.  If  we  should  call  only  the  Romantic 
poetry  Christian,  we  should,  in  fact,  be  guilty  of  a  total  con- 
fusion of  ideas  or  of  passionate  infatuation.  It  is  not  the 
form  but  the  matter  that  makes  a  poem  Christian;  and 
therefore  there  are  many  Romantic  poems  which,  with  all 
the  form  borrowed  from  Christianity,  have  unchristian  and 
offensive  matter.  At  least,  the  imitation  of  the  Romanticists 
among  the  French  has  not  contributed  to  the  promotion  of 
practical  Christianity. 

Still,  the  service  of  Romanticism  should  not  be  ignored. 
It  has  unquestionably  opened  new  paths  to  art  and  poetry, 
and  assigned  a  limit  to  the  slavish  and  often  inappropriate 
imitation  of  the  ancients.  "  The  Romanticists,"  says  Gej  vinus, 
"have  undoubtedly  contributed  largely  to  the  continuance  of 
the  Goethean  period,  to  arouse  to  a  current  our  stagnant 
German  private  life,  to  destroy  some  of  its  snobbishness,  to 
send  a  fresh  draught  through  the  close  atmosphere  of  the 
room,  to  call  out  learned  men  under  the  open  heavens,  to 
break  the  monotony  of  society,  and  to  substitute  a  cheerful 
elegance  for  punctiliousness  and  pedantry."2  Yet  we  should 
not  forget  that  here,  too,  others  have  led  the  van.  Herder, 
who  carefully  collected  the  voices  of  the  nations  as  expressed 
in  popular  songs,  first  awakened  the  taste  for  a  poetry  which 

1  "We  are  here  best  convinced  that  the  form  and  matter  did  not  al- 
ways perfectly  harmonize,  as  the  new  speculative  philosophy  holds. 

2  Nationallitteratur,  Vol.  V.  p.  600. 


ROMANTICISM  OPPOSING  RATIONALISM.  279 

lay  outside  the  bounds  of  Rome  and  Greece,  and  which  had 
just  as  much  right  to  be  called  poetry  as  that  which  had 
hitherto  passed  by  that  name  exclusively.  Goethe,  too,  has 
helped  to  break  the  bonds  which  anxiously  kept  the  mind 
captive  in  its  old  forms;  he,  however,  with  his  versatility, 
treated  the  ancient,  the  Middle  Age,  the  modern,  the  western, 
and  the  eastern  with  equal  artistic  skill,  while  the  real  Ro- 
manticists cither  confined  themselves  to  the  Middle  Age  form 
of  Christianity  or  conceded  the  unquestionable  precedence  of 
this  to  the  classical.  But  by  this  means  they  only  bound  a 
new  scholastic  fetter  on  genius,  and  thereby  introduced  a 
manner  which  only  concealed  the  want  of  true  and  original 
spirit.  As  was  the  case  in  philosophy  so  now  in  poetry,  a 
certain  dexterity  of  style  and  language  henceforth  became 
established,  by  which  the  self-examining  understanding  was 
intimidated  as  by  an  enchantment,  and  the  right  of  having 
its  own  say  was  contested  from  the  very  outset.  Who  could 
prevent  a  new  arrogance  from  taking  the  place  of  the  old, 
and  from  the  fancy  of  genius  asserting  its  authority  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  fancy  of  illuminism? 

By  applying  this  remark  more  specifically  to  religion,  we 
observe  that  the  Romantic  school,  inasmuch  as  it  became 
absorbed  in  the  general  Christian  view  prevailing  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  constituted  all  the  stronger  contrast  to  the 
skepticism  and  shallowness  which  had  for  a  time  maintained 
the  upper  hand.  Romanticism  proved  itself  a  reaction,  and 
became  immediately  the  sworn  foe  of  Rationalism ;  it  hunted 
it  into  all  its  lurking  places,  though  not  angrily  or  over 
zealously,  like  orthodoxy,  but  tantalizing  it  continually,  and 
making  it  as  ridiculous  as  possible,  not  in  the  religious  and 
ecclesiastical  department  alone,  but  in  education,  training, 
morals,  and  even  politics.  Everywhere  and  with  great  audaci- 
ty it  asserted  the  rights  of  the  imagination  (almost  more 
than  those  of  real  feeling),  in  opposition  to  the  intelligibleness 
and  reasonableness  of  the  age.  What  the  priests  of  illuminism 
had  derided  and  scoffed  at,  was  now  raised  from  the  dust 
into  the  sunlight,  and  saluted  with  almost  unbounded  enthu- 
siasm.  The  new  wit  was  now  applied  against  what  was  old ; 


280 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


the  pedantic  and  precocious  illuminisra  was  laughed  at,  its 
own  derision  being  paid  back  with  large  interest. 

No  one  went  further  in  the  use  of  this  wanton  humor  than 
Tieck.1  While  the  philanthropical  educators,  Basedow  and 
Campe,  had  depressed  all  development  of  the  imagination, 
and  had  banished  from  the  nursery  the  juvenile  tales,  with 
the  beautiful  Christmas-tree  and  even  the  infant  Christ  him- 
self and  his  halo,  legends  were  now  praised  instead  of  moral 
tales  as  the  real  gospel  for  childhood;  and  not  children 
and  the  common  people  alone,  but  even  the  adult  and  edu- 
cated, should  now  have  more  taste  for  the  Genovefa,  the 
horned  Siegfried,  the  seven  children  of  Aimon,  and  the  Em- 
peror Octavian,  than  for  the  tedious  skeptical  sermons  of 
Nicolai  and  similar  men.  Thus  people  soon  went  from  one 
extreme  to  the  other.  Yet  (and  this  was  not  the  most 
dangerous  feature  of  Romanticism)  not  the  understanding 
alone,  but  also  legal  morality,  was  removed  as  an  intellectual 
fetter  confining  free  genius  to  the  forms  of  tradition;  divine 
harshness  was  opposed  to  modesty,  and  a  dangerous  levity 
in  the  treatment  of  the  holiest  human  relations  was  opposed 
to  the  old  integrity,  which  was  now  designated  as  pride  of 
honor  and  moral  affectation  (prudery).  We  need  only  call 
to  mind  Schlegel' s  Lucinda. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  besides  this  moral  freedom  and 
laxity  there  was  also  quite  a  perceptible  preference  for 
feudalism,  knighthood,  the  privileges  of  the  nobility,  etc.,  in 
opposition  to  the  revolutionary  intoxication  for  freedom.  So 
in  theology,  there  was  not  merely  a  regard  to  the  awakening 
animation  of  religious  feeling,  but  also  to  a  restoration  of 
certain  favorite  ideas,  by  which  the  imagination  could  have 
full  play  without  interfering  essentially  with  the  improvement 
of  man.  The  mysterious  and  wonderful,  which  Rationalism 
thought  it  had  removed,  were  again  tenderly  fostered;  just 
that  at  which  the  understanding  had  taken  offence  was  praised 
as  the  real  nature  of  religion.  The  conclusion  is  self-evident, 
that  only  a  doubtful  service  was  rendered  to  that  simple, 
Scriptural,  and  purely  apostolical  Christianity  which  evan- 

1  Zerbino  oder  die  Reise  zum  guten  Geschmach. 


ROMAN  CATHOLIC  TENDENCY  OF  ROMANTICISM.  281 

gelical  Protestantism  had  desired.  Miracles  were  not  loved 
alone  because  of  faith,  but  because  they  were  miracles;  the 
imagination  was  stimulated  and  violently  excited;  and  it 
revelled  in  exuberance,  in  which  there  seemed  to  be  less  re- 
gard to  moral  holiness  than  to  enjoyment. 

We  here  meet  with  a  phenomenon  similar  to  what  we  found 
in  Schelling's  natural  philosophy.  As  the  latter  tickled  the  specu- 
lative reason  by  mysteries,  without  being  influenced  by  the 
heart  and  will,  so  did  Romanticism  now  tickle  the  power  of 
imagination.1  Christian  language  and  Christian  harmonies  here 
again  fell  upon  the  ear;  everything  seemed  to  be  in  a  magical 
twilight;  people  sang  and  whispered  of  the  "child  Jesus1' 
and  his  "  glorious  mother,"  of  the  saving  effect  of  the  sacra- 
ments, and  of  other  matters,  without  feeling  at  the  same  time 
that  the  Christian  sentiment  and  direction  of  life  had  an 
active  part  to  play.  Even  dissoluteness  did  not  seem  altogether 
incompatible  with  such  exuberance.  And  here  again  we  must 
ask,  in  the  interest  of  the  church  and  of  Christianity,  whether, 
after  all,  we  would  not  prefer  barren  Rationalism,  with  its 
dry  but  honorable  and  serious  morals,  if  we  had  to  choose 
between  it  and  such  a  Romanized  Christianity?  Here  too  we 
must  repeat  the  observation  that  pantheism,  the  equalization 
of  God  and  the  world,  the  removal  of  the  bounds  between  human 
freedom  and  natural  necessity,  or  at  least  the  unscrupulous 
jostling  against  these  bounds,  the  confusion  of  nature  and 
morality,  of  metaphysics,  aesthetics  and  religion,  and  the  re- 
moval and  derision  of  an  intelligible,  organizing  activity,  which 
preserves  these  departments  in  all  their  distinctness,  played 
a  great  part  in  the  perversions  of  Romanticism.  We  speak 
only  against  these  perversions,  but  strangely  enough,  these 
appeared  prominently  as  good  and  wholesome  effects,  some 
of  which,  especially  in  the  department  of  art,  we  would  not 
ignore. 

Now  while  Romanticism  occupied  an  equivocal  and  oblique 

1  Comp,  tlie  estimate  of  Romanticism,  which  harmonizes  in  the  main 
with  ours,  in  the  well-written  book  of  Carl  Schwarz:  Zur  Geschichte  der 
neuesten  Theologie.  Leipzig,  1864  Yet  we  cannot  coincide  fully  with 
the  author  in  other  parts  of  his  work. 


282 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


attitude  toward  Christianity,  we  must  call  its  position  toward 
Protestantism  decidedly  dangerous.  It  should  make  us  suspi- 
cious of  it  when  we  see  it  seeking  Christianity  where  Protest- 
antism does  not  find  it.  I  will  confess, — indeed,  I  must 
sincerely  thank  Romanticism  for  it,— that  it  has  moderated 
certain  defects  and  asperities  of  Protestantism,  opened  be- 
fore us  a  freer  and  more  impartial  view  of  the  artistic  beauties 
of  the  Middle  Ages,1  and  shown  us  many  sides  of  Protest- 
antism in  a  better  light  than  in  which  we  had  hitherto 
viewed  them.  But  it  can  do  no  harm  to  be  on  our  guard 
here,  lest  we  should  be  humbugged  to  believe  that  everything  is 
beautiful,  profound  and  sensible  which  merely  makes  a  Middle 
Age  face.  But  while  Protestantism  was  despised  by  the  first 
leaders  of  this  school,  and  its  doctrine  and  life  denied,  and 
while  the  apostates  from  the  Protestant  to  the  Catholic  church 
are  found,  though  not  exclusively,  on  this  Romantic  ground, 
it  is  not  saying  too  much  to  call  its  attitude  dangerous. 

But  in  affirming  this,  we  by  no  means  declare  that  the  men 
who  adopted  this  tendency  were  thoroughly  devoid  of  a 
Christian  or  Protestant  character;  for,  as  for  Christian  char- 
acter, we  find,  on  the  contrary,  individuals  among  them  who 
were  pervaded  by  the  most  earnest  Christian  feeling,  and 
contributed  greatly  to  awaken  and  arouse  it  in  others;  and 
with  reference  to  the  attitude  of  the  Romanticists  to  Protest- 
antism, it  is  one  of  more  or  less  magnitude.  In  this  respect 
we  can  distinguish  three  classes  of  Romanticists:  those  who 
really  passed  over  to  Protestantism ;  those  who  outwardly  re- 
mained Protestant,  but  did  not  deny  their  Catholic  sympathies; 
and  those  who  returned  after  long  vacillation  to  a  decided 
Protestant  conviction,  and  in  whom  Romanticism  aided  to 
adorn  Lutheranism.  We  reserve  the  first  class  for  the  follow- 
ing lecture,  when  we  will  treat  it  in  connection  with  other 
apostates.  I  choose  two  men  as  representatives  of  the  last 
two  classes  whose  names  are  familiar  in  literature.  One  is 
a  poet,  who  is  not  only  well-known,  but  is  certainly  beloved 
and  worthy,  because  a  deeper  trace  of  Christianity  pervades 

1  Comp,  especially  Die  Herzensergiessungen  eines  kunstlieb enden  Kloster- 
bruders (by  Wackenroder),  published  by  Tieck. 


HYMNS  OF  NOVALIS. 


283 


his  hymns  than  we  have  found  in  the  so-called  classic  poets, 
Schiller  and  Goethe,  and  which  we  scarcely  found  in  such 
Christian  earnestness  even  in  Herder.  I  mean  Hardenberg, 
or  as  he  calls  himself  as  a  writer,  Novalis.  The  other,  less 
known  as  a  Christian  poet,  is  Baron  La  Motte  Fouque. 

The  delicate  fervency  of  true  Romanticism  has  certainly  been 
nowhere  more  beautifully  expressed  than  in  the  hymns  of  Novalis, 
which  are  a  salutary  contrast  to  the  shallow  moral  rhymes 
of  the  period  of  illuminism;  and  though  they  are  not  really 
church  hymns,  they  can  be  sung  heartily  and  emotionally  in 
quiet  solitude.  In  the  midst  of  the  most  varied  circumstances 
and  mental  states  of  life,  in  what  heart  would  not  the  holiest 
sympathy  be  awakened  by  such  earnest  and  tender  hymns 
as:  "He  who  sits  in  His  chamber  alone,"  or:  "If  only  Him 
I  have,"  or:  "Though  all  be  false,  yet  will  not  I?"  After  all 
that  long  period  of  skepticism,  who  would  not  joyfully  look 
with  the  poet  upon  a  new  period,  in  such  words  as  these: 

44 To  every  one  I  say: 
He's  risen  and  lives  now; 
He  moves  in  our  midst, 
And  with  us  e'er  doth  go, 

I  say  to  all:  Let  each 
To  all  his  friends  declare, 
The  heavenly  kingdom  new 
Is  dawning  everywhere. 

To  our  new  sense,  the  world 
Now  seems  our  native  land, 
And,  ravished,  we  receive 
A  new  life  from  His  hand. 

He  lives  and  with  us  stays, 
"When  left  by  all  the  rest; 
And  thus  this  day  shall  be 
The  world's  renewal  feast." 

But  if  we  further  ask  what  the  poet  understood  by  this 
renewal  of  the  world,  we  shall  hardly  feel  satisfied.  Particularly 
in  his  prose  works  we  stumble  upon  expressions  that  now 
indicate  an  indistinct  pantheistic  excitement  of  feeling,  and 

Vol.  IL— 19 


284 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH, 


now  plainly  defined  Catholicism.  Or  who  will  not  hesitate 
to  unite  with  him  in  saying,  that  man  is  not  made  happy 
by  definite  senses  and  feelings,  but  by  indefinite  ones;  that 
the  most  perfect  consciousness  is  that  which  is  conscious 
of  everything  and  nothing;  indeed,  that  the  poetic  sense 
is  necessarily  related  to  madness.1  And  who  can  ward  off 
an  uncomfortable  shudder  when,  amid  many  beautiful  and 
spirited  remarks  of  the  pious  poet,  we  hear  him  say: 
"The  Christian  religion  is  the  real  religion  of  pleasure.  Sin 
is  the  greatest  charm  for  the  love  of  G-od.  .  .  .  Unquali- 
fied union  with  Deity  is  the  purpose  of  sin  and  love.  Dithy- 
rambics  are  a  truly  Christian  product!"  The  confusion  of  a 
romantic,  subtle  and  sensuous  love  with  religious  love,  led  to 
.the  poetical  worship  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  which  built  a  bridge 
for  such  minds  to  pass  over  to  Catholicism.  This  Mariolatry 
crops  out  openly  in  Novalis.  Many  of  his  poems  are  not  ad- 
dressed merely  as  poetic  fiction,  but  seriously,  to  the  Queen 
of  Heaven,  just  as  he  elsewhere  turns  to  Christ  as  the  Lord. 
Indeed,  he  confesses  that  the  Heavenly  Virgin  has  a  power 
and  glory  far  beyond  all  description,  and  that  she  is  the 
fountain  of  heavenly  blessedness. 

"I  see  thee,  Mary,  in  a  thousand  images 
Expressed,  but  nowhere  as  my  soul  sees  thee! 
Since  my  spirit  gazed  on  thee,  this  world's  din 
Is  nothing  but  a  dream,  for  a  heaven 
Beyond  description  dwells  ever  in  my  breast." 

Yet  not  Mariolatry  alone,  but  the  whole  edifice  of  the 
Catholicism  of  the  Middle  Ages,  found  in  the  heart  of  Novalis 
a  powerful  harmony,  and  in  him  an  eloquent  defender. 

Novalis,  in  a  fragment  of  the  year  1799,  inscribed  Chris- 
tianity, or  Europe,  praises  the  "  beautiful  and  splendid" 
period  of  the  Middle  Ages,  when  our  quarter  of  the  world 
was  occupied  by  one  Christianity,  when  the  widely  separated 
provinces  were  connected  by  one  great  and  common  interest, 
when  political  powers  were  united  under  one  head,  and  when 
the  clergy  preached  nothing  but  love  for  the  holy  and  wonder- 
ful Woman  of  Christianity,  who,  endowed  with  divine  powers, 

1  Schriften,  Vol.  II.  p.  163. 


NOVALIS  PRAISING  THE  POPES  AND  BLAMING  LUTHER.  285 

was  ready  to  save  every  believer  from  the  most  awful  dan- 
gers. But  still  more  than  the  poetry  of  the  service,— which 
we  must  excuse  in  the  poet,  —  does  he  approve  the  conduct 
of  the  head  of  the  church  in  opposing  the  bold  improvement 
of  human  talents  and  the  dangerous  scientific  discoveries, 
whenever  they  occurred  at  the  expense  of  a  sacred  feeling. 
He  fully  justifies  the  pope  for  prohibiting  the  consideration 
of  the  earth  as  an  insignificant  planet,  because,  with  the  loss 
of  respect  for  our  earthly  home,  there  is  also  ruined  that 
for  our  heavenly  one.  He  praises  the  wisdom  of  the  popes 
in  collecting  the  enlightened  men  at  their  court,  while  they 
kept  the  people  in  ignorance.  Therefore  he  does  not  regard 
the  restoration  of  the  sciences  and  the  succeeding  Reformation 
as  other  Protestants,  as  a  blessing  for  mankind,  but  a  mis- 
fortune, at  least  a  temporal  one.  "Luther,"  says  he,  "treated 
Christianity  arbitrarily;  he  misconceived  its  spirit,  and  in- 
troduced another  letter  and  religion,  namely,  the  holy  univer- 
sal sufficiency  of  the  Bible;  and,  second,  another  highly  ex- 
traneous earthly  science,  so  unfortunately  mixed  up  in  religious 
concerns, — philology,  whose  injurious  influence  afterward 
became  unmistakable." 

We  may  find  such  sentiments  excusable  if  we  remember 
that,  after  Luther,  Protestantism  soon  became  ossified  in  the 
letter  to  a  dead  orthodoxy,  and  that  the  same  sifting  of  the 
letter  and  syllable  became  established  in  those  who,  by  means 
of  a  rigidly  grammatical  exposition  of  the  Bible,  at  last  ap- 
plied themselves  to  explaining  all  the  spirit  out  of  it,  as 
learned  theology  often  delays  at  grammatical  specialties  with- 
out penetrating  the  meaning  and  spirit  of  the  Scriptures. 
Yet  Novalis  should  not  have  laid  upon  Luther  the  burden 
which  belongs  to  the  theologians  of  his  party.  "  Luther  mis- 
conceived the  spirit  of  Christianity,"  is,  to  say  the  least,  a 
misconception  of  Luther's  spirit.  And  why  did  Luther  mis- 
conceive the  spirit  of  Christianity?  Novalis  says:  "Because 
he  introduced  the  holy  universal  sufficiency  of  the  Bible."  Is 
not  this  a  misconception  of  the  spirit  of  the  Reformation  and 
of  Protestantism  ?  Of  course,  we  would  not  defend  that  credi- 
bility of  the  Bible  which  mistakes,  in  the  written  letter  of 


286 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


the  Scriptures,  the  riches  of  the  ecclesiastical  life  as  developed 
in  the  fullness  of  the  centuries,  or  which  will  not  let  the  in- 
ward word  ascend  above  the  external,  written  word.  We 
have  already  called  this  a  Protestant  defect,  but  should 
Luther's  great  deed  of  restoring  the  Bible  to  Christian  people, 
and  of  placing  it  as  a  lamp  on  the  altar  instead  of  dumb 
pictures  and  symbols, — a  deed  for  which  we  cannot  praise 
God  enough, — be  called  a  misdeed  or  a  misconception?  But 
our  Romanticist  is  simply  untruthful  when  he  further  charges 
the  Protestants  as  follows:  "Luther  has  been  elevated  by 
many  of  them  to  the  rank  of  an  Evangelist,  and  his  trans- 
lation of  the  Bible  has  been  canonized."  Luther's  translation  has 
never  been  canonized,  nor  ever  recognized  as  the  only  valid  one, 
by  the  declaration  of  any  council;  it  has  hewn  its  way  by  its 
own  excellence,  and  other  translations  have  gained  favor  beside 
it.  Novalis  knew  this  very  well.  But  his  mind  was  prejudiced 
against  the  Reformation,  because  he  erroneou-ly  charged  the 
Reformers  with  those  deeds  of  Protestantism  which  he  properly 
opposed.  And  hence  it  is  natural,  that  when  the  whole  history 
of  Protestantism  presents  no  great  supernatural  phenomenon  to 
the  ill-humored  and  prejudiced  mind,  the  latter  finds  every- 
where nothing  more  than  a  smothered,  confined  and  stunted 
life.  "Christianity  was  undone  with  the  Reformation,"  says 
Novalis;  "it  no  more  existed  after  this,  for  all  things  were 
opposed  to  each  other  in  sectarian  division." 

After  all  this,  we  can  expect  nothing  else  than  that  Novalis 
should  enter  the  church  which  had  been  preserved  from  this 
misery  of  the  Reformation.  But  he  would  not  do  this,  and 
was  far  from  wishing  to  restore  unconditionally  the  old 
Romanism;  he  hoped,  rather,  that  this  crisis  of  unbelief,  by 
which  he  did  not  yet  feel  affected,  would  lead  to  a  trans- 
formation of  the  church,  and  restore  true  Catholicism,  which 
would  reunite  what  had  been  divided;  and  it  was  on  Roman- 
ticism that  he  established  the  most  of  these  hopes.  "Poetry," 
he  says,  "  is  more  attractive  and  of  richer  color  than  a  painted 
Indian  standing  before  the  cold  and  dead  Spitzbergen  of  that 
bookish  understanding.  ...  He  who  has  felt  the  heart- 
throb of  the  new  period,  no  more  doubts  its  coming,  and  with 


NOVALIS  EXPECTING  PEACE  BY  RELIGION.  287 

a  sweet  pride  he  steps  out  of  the  crowd  of  his  contemporaries 
to  the  new  group  of  disciples."  This  poet  also  regarded  the 
political  revolutions  as  an  indication  of  the  approaching 
change,  and  that  the  reconciliation  of  the  nations  and  general 
peace  could  not  come  from  the  cabinets,  but  from  religion. 
u  War  will  never  cease  if  the  olive-branch  is  not  taken,  which 
alone  can  afford  spiritual  power.  Blood  will  stream  over 
Europe  until  the  nations  become  aware  of  the  fearful  madness 
by  which  they  are  driven,  and,  soothed  by  the  holy  music, 
approach  their  former  altars  in  all  their  diversity,  undertake 
the  works  of  peace,  and  celebrate  with  hot  tears,  on  smoking 
battle-fields,  a  great  feast  of  love  as  a  feast  of  peace.  It  is 
only  by  religion  that  Europe  can  be  awakened,  the  nations 
rendered  secure,  and  Christianity  visibly  installed  on  the  earth 
in  new  glory,  in  its  former  peaceful  office.  .  .  .  Chris- 
tianity must  again  become  vital  and  effective,  and  again  form, 
without  regard  to  territorial  limits,  a  visible  church,  which 
will  receive  to  its  bosom  all  souls  that  are  thirsting  after 
what  is  heavenly,  and  will  willingly  be  the  mediator  of  the 
old  and  the  new  world.  It  must  again  pour  out  the  old 
cornucopia  of  blessings  upon  the  nations.  It  will  arise  from 
the  holy  bosom  of  a  venerable  European  council,  and  the 
work  of  religious  awakening  will  be  carried  on  according  to 
the  all-comprehensive  divine  plan.  No  one  will  any  more 
trotest  against  Christian  and  temporal  compulsion,  for  the 
nature  of  the  church  will  be  true  freedom;  and  all  necessary 
reforms  will  be  conducted  under  its  guidance  as  peaceful  and 
proper  civil  processes.  We  must  not  ask  when  this  time  will 
come.  Only  be  patient;  it  will  and  must  come, — the  holy 
time  of  eternal  peace,  when  the  new  Jerusalem  will  be  the 
metropolis  of  the  world, — and  until  then  be  glad  and  coura- 
geous amid  the  dangers  of  the  times.  Companions  of  my  faith, 
proclaim  in  word  and  deed  the  divine  Gospel,  and  remain 
faithful  until  death  to  the  true  and  infinite  faith!" 

Thus  Novalis  spoke  and  hoped.  If  we  take  a  look  at  his 
hasty  life,  for  it  was  a  passing  shadow,  we  shall  see  a  noble 
mind  in  the  midst  of  manifold  errors,  which  struggled  for 
light  and  was  purified  in  the  fire.   If  Novalis  had  reached 


288 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


his  maturity,  he  would  have  pronounced  a  different  opinion 
on  many  things.  We  cannot  take  offence  at  his  youth,  but 
we  would  still  less  use  it  as  a  guide  over  dizzy  heights.  He 
died  in  the  home  of  his  parents  at  Weissenfels,  on  the  25th 
of  March,  1801,  not  yet  having  reached  his  twenty-ninth 
year,  but  rich  in  sweet  and  bitter  experiences.  He  had  been 
sickly  when  a  child.  His  first  love  had  been  crushed  by  the 
death  of  the  lady  to  whom  he  was  betrothed,  and  from  the 
ruins  he  had  built  up  the  altar  of  his  domestic  life  by  a 
second  union.  Of  his  friends,  Frederick  Schlegel  and  Fichte 
exercised  the  greatest  influence  upon  him.  His  love  for  his 
Redeemer,  which,  with  all  his  leaning  to  Catholicism,  was 
the  key-note  to  his  religious  feelings,  sustained  him  firmly 
in  his  sufferings.  The  Bible,  which  he  regarded  most  highly 
as  God's  word,  notwithstanding  his  incorrect  notions  of  its 
distribution,  together  with  the  writings  of  Lavater  and  Zinzen- 
dorf,  were  the  companions  of  his  sick  bed.  He  fell  asleep 
amid  the  soft  notes  of  the  piano,  which  he  had  requested  his 
brother  to  play.  In  music  he  had  continually  sought  a  pro- 
found symbol  of  the  most  hearty  spiritual  relations,  for  nature, 
to  whose  study  he  committed  himself,  disclosed  such  relations 
to  him.1  "The  expression  of  his  face,"  says  Tieck,  "ap- 
proached very  nearly  that  of  John  the  Evangelist,  as  we  have 
seen  him  on  Albert  Dürer' s  glorious  tablet.  .  .  .  His  friendli- 
ness and  frankness  made  him  everywhere  beloved.  ...  He 
could  be  as  joyous  as  a  child,  sporting  in  unfettered  glee,  and 
willingly  surrendering  himself  to  the  pleasantry  of  society. 
Without  vanity  and  learned  pride,  removed  from  all  affectation 
and  hypocrisy,  he  was  a  pure  and  true  man,  the  purest  and 
loveliest  embodiment  of  an  exalted  and  immortal  spirit."2 

While  Novalis  sprang  from  the  bosom  of  a  pious  Moravian 
family,  and  his  imagination  and  feeling  had  early  received 
those  impressions  which  gave  his  life  its  peculiar  direction, 
the  outward  relations  of  La  Motte  Fouque,  as  we  hear  from 
himself,  awakened  in  him  the  poetic  feeling,  and  filled  his 

1  See  particularly  his  romance:  Heinrich  von  Osterdingen. 

2  In  the  poet's  Biographie,  whose  works  Tieck,  in  connection  with 
Frederick  Schlegel,  first  published.    Berlin,  1805. 


FOUQUtf's  DEFECTIVE  RELIGIOUS  EDUCATION.  280 

imagination  with  bright  images.1  But  we  learn  farther  from 
his  Autobiography,  how  the  skeptical  method  of  teachers  con- 
stituted the  most  marked  contrast  to  the  imaginative  tendency 
of  the  boy;  how  the  ghost  of  the  freethinking  century  crept 
in  wherever  it  was  important  to  influence  his  youthful  mind 
with  earnest  religious  instructions;  and  how  even  his  pious 
parents  shared  the  current  prejudice,  that  children  should 
not  be  molested  too  soon  with  religion.  We  are  also  re- 
peatedly assured  that,  in  training  him,  everything  was  taught 
by  purely  intellectual  arguments,  for  nothing  was  said  of 
divine  grace  and  revelation.  The  scholar  learned  from  his 
teacher  that  Homer's  songs  were  the  Bible  of  the  Greeks, 
but  was  never  informed  what  the  Christian's  Bible  is.  When 
he  was  further  advanced,  a  Lutheran  preacher  entertained 
him  with  anecdotes  and  romances  more  than  with  God's  Word. 
Afterward,  the  worthy  Reformed  preacher  of  the  French 
Colony  in  Potsdam,  who  prepared  him  for  the  Lord's  Supper, 
laid  the  Bible  on  the  table  during  instruction,  without  teach- 
ing him  but  one  passage  in  it,  much  less  building  his  in- 
struction upon  it,  and  patched  everything  together,  though 
with  a  very  good  purpose,  from  human  conclusions  and  proofs. 
Therefore  the  act  of  confirmation  looked  more  like  a  correct 
disputation  than  an  ecclesiastical  act.  Fouque  further  tells 
us,  how  his  natural  emotions  came  to  his  help  by  the  remem- 
brance of  his  deceased  mother,  and  yet,  in  spite  of  them,  that 
he  was  far  from  having  any  real  religious  feeling.  The  young 
applicant  for  confirmation  had  no  idea  of  what  he  was  doing. 
Strangely  enough,  he  even  tells  us  that,  at  that  solemn  mo- 
ment of  confirmation,  he  had  no  better  means  of  adhering  to 
his  numerous  good  resolutions  than  by  taking  as  a  witness 
to  them  the  greyhound  lying  asleep  under  the  table,  for  he 
resolved  that,  as  often  as  he  thought  of  the  brute,  he  would 
be  reminded  of  his  vow.  In  hearing  all  these  things  we  can 
well  imagine  what  a  web  was  necessarily  woven  when  Ration- 
alistic instruction  formed  its  woof,  and  the  boy's  own  fancy 
its  warp. 

Therefore  we  cannot  be  surprised  that  Fouque  should  after- 

1  Lebensgeschichte.   Halle,  1840. 


290 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


ward  be  radically  opposed  to  all  defective  training  of  the 
understanding,  and  that  in  his  earnest  seeking  of  truth, 
which  he  did  not  relinquish  in  the  midst  of  military  service 
and  his  worship  of  the  muses,  he  should  even  be  led  into 
many  errors,  however  beautiful  and  excellent  in  itself  was 
his  principle,  that  we  should  learn  everything  by  heart. 

Fouque,  too,  was  strongly  tempted  to  enter  the  Catholic 
church.  An  old  Catholic  priest,  also  named  La  Motte  Fouque, 
a  scion  of  the  remaining  Catholic  branch  of  the  family,  in- 
vited him  by  letter  to  take  this  step,  and  also  appealed  to 
him  to  return  to  France,  whence  his  ancestors  had  been 
banished  for  their  adherence  to  the  Reformed  Confession. 
But  Fouque  declined  the  proposition,  although,  as  he  himself 
assures  us,  his  mind  was  then  more  inclined  to  Catholicism 
than  opposed  to  it.  "But  matters  went  with  me,"  he  says, 
"as  with  the  early  nations  converted  to  Christianity, — first 
Catholicism,  and  then  purified,  evangelical  Christianity.1'  "I 
was  attracted  most  of  all,"  he  frankly  and  honestly  says, 
"by  the  glories  of  the  Catholic  service,  and  by  the  legendary 
miracles  represented  in  such  great  splendor  by  the  poems  of 
the  Romantic  school,  to  which  I  belonged  in  soul  and  body." 
He  once  seriously  entertained  the  thought  of  returning,  with 
his  second  wife,  to  the  old  church.  He  dreamed  of  chapels, 
of  pilgrimages  to  Italy,  etc.,  —  dreams  which  he  lived  to  de- 
scribe as  "  sinful  vanity  from  which  God  again  delivered  me." 

Fouque  now  applied  himself  more  than  ever  to  Protestant 
Mysticism;  and  it  was  the  father  of  the  Protestant  Mystics, 
Jacob  Boehme,  in  whom  he  became  immersed,  and  who  was 
honored  even  by  the  natural  philosophers  and  the  Romanti- 
cists as  the  source  of  profound  truth.  The  young  poet, 
as  he  tells  us  himself,  "first  sought  only  the  shining  enig- 
matical pictures  in  the  halls  of  the  mysterious  edifice;  but 
the  Scriptural  passages  there  engraved,  and  the  pious  and 
oft-repeated  wish  of  Jacob  Boehme, —  'I  would  that  all  the 
world  might  be  led  to  the  holy  original  fountain  of  truth, 
the  Bible,  and  then  forget  all  my  books,'  —  continued  to 
pervade  the  soul  of  the  imaginative  reader,  and  streamed 
into  his  heart  with  an  awakening  shudder."    Thus,  just  what 


FOUQUti  AS  CHRISTIAN  AND  POET. 


291 


had  disinclined  Novalis  to  Protestantism,  served  to  lead  Fouque 
toward  it. 

But  to  Bochme's  invigorating  influence  there  was  now  add- 
ed that  of  Fichte,  whose  views  Fouque,  however,  could  not 
fully  endorse,  and  with  whom  he  once  disputed  on  redemption 
a  great  part  of  the  night.  Yet  Fichte's  society  influenced 
him  as  that  of  a  "paternal  friend."  But  the  serious  political 
strife  at  last  decided  the  issue.  The  necessity  of  his  country 
taught  the  poet-soldier  to  pray  for  himself  and  the  salvation 
of  his  people.  After  peace  was  restored,  he  received  from  a 
former  companion  in  arms  strong  admonitions  to  seek  the 
one  thing  needful.  From  many  quarters  he  was  invited  to 
bid  adieu  to  all  worldly  poetical  fame,  and  dedicate  himself 
solely  to  sacred  poetry.  Yet  Fouque  did  not  do  this,  but  he 
did  implore  God's  blessing  upon  his  secular  poems.  He  sought 
to  transfer  as  much  of  the  ancestral  faith  as  possible  to  the 
outward  relations  of  life.  Though,  in  the  effort,  there  was 
much  that  had  the  fantastic  color  of  his  whole  life,  we  are 
yet  glad  to  hear  him  thus  answer  the  question  propounded 
to  him  in  relation  to  his  religious  faith:  "Expect  from  me 
everything  which  you  can  expect  from  a  simple,  Bible-be- 
lieving Christian;  neither  more  nor  less,  if  God  give  me 
strength."  As  a  poet,  Fouque  is  inferior  to  Novalis,  but 
though  all  of  his  hymns  do  not  have  an  equal  charm,1  we 
find  them  breathing  but  one  sentiment,  which  he  has  himself 
expressed  in  a  prayer,  written  in  the  year  1809,  in  the  follow- 
ing words: 

"I'm  standing  ready,  Lord, 
For  all  that  Thou  dost  say; 
For  praising  Thee  in  song, 
Or  joining  in  the  fray. 
Thy  messenger  in  fight, 
Thy  messenger  at  home, 
I'll  sweetly  take  my  rest 
When  under  Heaven's  dome. 


1  We  do  not  here  speak  of  his  romances,  Undine  and  Zauberring. 


LECTURE  XV. 


THE  APOSTATES  WINCKELMANN  AND  STOLBERG.  —  STOLBERG'S 
RELATION  TO  LAVATER,  THE  PRINCESS  OF  GALITZIN,  AND 
JACOBI.  —  THE  CRYPTO-CATHOLIC  STARK.  —  FREDERICK 
SCHLEGEL. 

The  history  of  the  defection  of  distinguished  individuals 
from  the  Protestant  confession,  or  the  history  of  apostasy, 
unquestionably  belongs  to  that  of  the  development  of  evan- 
gelical Protestantism,  and  to  this  subject  we  must  direct 
attention  in  the  present  lecture,  and  in  part  in  the  following 
one.  It  might  be  said,  why  concern  ourselves  about  those 
who  have  left  us?  The  Protestant  church  has  not  become 
poorer  by  their  departure,  and  the  fate  of  individuals  who 
have  gone  astray,  as  we  shall  have  to  consider  them,  is  not 
that  of  the  church. 

Yet  this  hard  and  lordly  language  would  ill  become  Prot- 
estantism, which  places  freedom  of  conscience  first  of  all, 
and  holds  that  no  visible  church  is  the  only  saving  one.  He 
who  knows  what  conflicts  of  conscience  it  cost  Luther  to 
separate  from  the  old  church,  in  which,  notwithstanding  all 
its  burdensome  corruption,  his  inward  nature  first  found 
nourishment;1  who  knows  the  efforts  which  the  church  made 
even  after  the  Reformation  to  re- awaken  spiritual  life  in  its 
members;  who  remembers  the  efforts  of  Borromeo,  Francis 

1  Thus  Luther  spoke  in  his  Unterricht  auf  etliche  Artikel,  etc.,  in  1519: 
"From  the  church  in  which  Saints  Peter  and  Paul,  forty-six  popes, 
and  hundreds  of  thousands  of  martyrs  have  conquered  hell  and  the 
world,  one  cannot  separate  without  sin." 


APOSTASY  INVITED  BY  PROTESTANT  DIVISION.  293 

of  Sales,  Pascal,  Bossuet,  and  Fenelon,  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  piercing  frost  of  unbelief  which,  for  some  time,  entered 
the  Protestant  church  from  certain  quarters;  who  recollects 
how  the  name  of  Protestantism  was  abused  by  a  certain 
party  to  protest  against  everything,  and  mostly  against  the 
fundamental  doctrines  of  Protestantism  itself,  and  how  every- 
thing was  despised  as  Catholicism,  as  priesthood  and  Judaism, 
which  showed  any  respect  and  love  for  Christian  institutions, 
and  took  an  interest  in  the  spread  of  Christian  principles 
and  the  introduction  of  Christian  associations, — will  very  clearly 
see  that  even  highly  gifted  men,  men  of  spirit  and  sound 
judgment,  could  go  astray  on  Protestantism,  and  that  they 
should  at  last  turn  again  to  the  old  church,  which  seemed 
to  them  to  rest  on  stronger  principles. 

But  the  most  important  thing  here  is  not  the  departure  of 
individuals,  which  may  be  regarded  as  a  private  matter,  and 
must  be  judged  mildly  or  strongly  according  to  circumstances. 
But  the  ease  with  which  this  apostasy  occurred  just  at  a  cer- 
tain time  and  under  certain  circumstances,  induces  us  to  direct 
attention  to  the  condition  of  the  Protestant  church  at  that  time. 
The  apostasy  of  individuals  to  the  Catholic  church  was  certainly 
nothing  new.  History  has  experienced  this  at  every  period ;  for 
example,  George  Wicel,  Luke  Holstein,  Angelus  Silesius,  Queen 
Christiana  of  Sweden,  and  others.  But  what  was  really  an 
individual  step  in  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries, 
strengthened  in  the  new  period  into  a  spiritual  tendency, 
which  was  connected  by  unmistakable  sympathies.  The 
Romantic  school,  to  which  Novalis  belonged,  still  numbered 
many  adherents,  and  led  public  and  secret  proselytes  to  Rome, 
even  those  of  whom  history  makes  no  mention.  And,  indeed, 
the  Catholic  church  did  not  need  here  those  special  per- 
suasive arts,  or  Jesuitical  intrigues,  or  appeals  to  earthly  ad- 
vantages which  have  ever  been  used  by  the  papacy  for 
seducing  the  weak.  But  many  of  these  transitions  occurred 
from  voluntary  conviction  and  inclination,  and  from  an  ir- 
resistible attraction  of  the  soul.  Their  cause  need  not  be 
sought  at  a  distance,  but  lies  in  what  we  have  hitherto  con- 
sidered.   Protestantism  had  long  been  divided  in  itself.  What 


294 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


was  closely  united  by  the  Reformers, — believing  sentiment 
and  free  inquiry, — had  been  so  far  sundered  that  it  seemed 
impossible  to  many  to  unite  them.  The  negative,  rational, 
and  critical  element  of  Protestantism  had  been  imprinted  in 
Rationalism,  and  the  positive  element  in  Pietism  or  Mysticism. 
Yet  none  of  these  presented  the  perfect  picture  of  the  be- 
neficent unity  of  the  sentiment  of  the  Reformation;  neither 
alone  could  satisfy  him  who  longed  for  inward  harmony. 

The  church  was  also  externally  divided,  for  there  was  a 
multitude  of  little  state- churches  in  Germany  and  of  little 
cantonal  churches  in  Switzerland,  and  there  was  no  common 
bond  anywhere.  And  even  if  there  had  been  a  desire  to 
renounce  the  external  bond,  the  spiritual  one  had  everywhere 
become  loose  and  weak,  frequently  broken,  and  only  poorly 
united  by  individuals  in  secret.  There  was  not  an  absence, 
indeed,  of  true  Protestant  spirit  and  effort,  a  fact  which,  I 
hope,  has  been  convincingly  proved  by  the  previous  history. 
But  the  champions  of  recent  Protestantism  occupying  the 
highest  positions,  whom  the  times  needed,  were  not  united 
among  themselves,  but  were  often  passionately  involved  in 
the  prevailing  conflicts.  There  was  no  calm  survey  of  what 
had  been,  and  was  yet  to  be,  acquired.  The  philosophical 
systems,  which  supplanted  each  other  in  quick  succession, 
could  not  furnish  the  theological  certainty  possessed  by  the 
early  teachers  of  the  church.  It  could  not  be  enforced  from 
without,  and  still  less  from  within,  without  hyprocrisy.  The 
individual  could  not  voluntarily  escape  from  the  conflict,  and 
even  the  most  honest  man  had  to  pass  through  the  school 
of  doubt  in  his  search  for  truth.  And  it  was  a  strong  con- 
fidence that,  after  all,  the  struggle  would  lead  to  a  beneficial 
issue,  and  a  correct  instinct  that  apostasy  was  justified  in  no 
case,  but  that  the  goal  for  which  we  strive  lies  only  be- 
fore us,  which  still  made  many  follow  the  standard  of  Prot- 
estantism when  they  could  no  more  hear  above  the  scene 
of  battle  the  war-cry  which  they  had  all  formerly  listened 
to.  But  we  cannot  prize  too  highly  the  fact,  that  in  this 
conflict  one  here  and  there  lagged  behind,  that  occasionally 
a  faint-hearted  one  threw  down  his  arms,  and  gave  himself  up 


PROTESTANT  APPRECIATION  OF  CATHOLICISM.  295 

as  a  deserter  to  the  old  adversary.  Such  occurrences  are  expli- 
cable by  the  condition  of  things,  though  by  no  means  excusable. 

But  then  another  thing  is  to  be  taken  into  consideration. 
The  more  Protestantism  had  gained  in  scientific  clearness  and 
caution,  the  more  it  had  laid  aside  the  old  iron  armor  used 
by  the  warriors  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  in 
combating  the  Catholic  church.  People  were  humanely  dis- 
posed; they  required  tolerance,  and  gave  it  in  return.  While 
the  narrow  illuminism  in  vogue  continually  blew  the  war- 
trumpet  against  the  Pope  and  the  Jesuits,  but  instigated 
others, — at  first  secretly  but  afterward  more  openly, — against 
Christianity  itself,  quiet  science  began  to  appreciate  magnani- 
mously what  had  arisen  in  connection  with  the  old  church, 
and  even  what  was  grand  and  mighty  in  antithesis  to  Protest- 
antism. Thus,  for  example,  John  von  Müller,  the  great 
Protestant  historian,  considered  the  papacy,  and  even  the  in- 
stitution of  the  Order  of  the  Jesuits,  from  a  great  and  uni- 
versal point  of  view;  the  new  speculative  philosophy,  which 
sought  to  unite  all  antitheses,  strove  to  find  in  Catholic  doc- 
trines and  the  scholastic  theology  of  the  Middle  Ages  a  deeper 
meaning  than  existed  at  the  time  of  the  popular  skeptical 
philosophy.  Finally  art,  only  partially  satisfied  by  Protest- 
antism, sought  to  supplement  it  by  Catholicism. 

We  would  not  here  assert  that  the  historical,  philosophical 
and  artistic  opinions  uttered  at  that  time  in  favor  of  the  old 
church  were  in  every  respect  correct;  much  can  be  said  on 
this  subject,  for  the  impartiality  aimed  at  was  often  only 
partisanship  of  another  kind.  But  the  purely  scientific  recog- 
nition of  the  other  party,  the  tendency  of  the  age  striv- 
ing to  get  beyond  all  partisan  zeal,  and  pressing  forward  to 
an  unbiased  and  objective  contemplation  of  things,  was,  if 
we  consider  it  impartially,  a  real  gain  and  progress,  though 
it  made  safe  walking  difficult,  and  easily  threw  the  insecure 
from  their  equilibrium. 

Looking  now  at  individuals,  the  motives  which  led  every 
one  of  them  to  the  Romish  church  were  various,  according 
to  the  difference  of  the  persons  themselves,  their  inward 
necessities,  and  their  outward  position.    We  will  not  here 


29G 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


speak  of  the  lowest  motives  of  selfishness,  the  prospect  of 
temporal  advantage,  and  the  like;  and  though  Goethe  has 
declared,  that  in  the  judgment  of  the  world  a  stain  rests  upon 
every  one  who  changes  his  religion,  we  must  strive  to  rise 
above  this  common  opinion  of  men.  God  alone  is  the  judge 
of  the  heart.  Yet  human  judgment  also  perceives  steps  and 
differences;  there  are  honorable  and  less  honorable  motives; 
indeed,  an  apparently  opposite  inducement  often  leads  to  the 
same  step.  Thus  one  might  pass  over  to  a  different  form  of 
faith  through  indifference,  while  with  another  it  might  be  really 
a  matter  of  conscience.  But  even  the  conscience  could  be 
disposed  and  misled  from  different  sides.  A  purely  religious, 
though  misconceived,  interest  might  direct  one,  and  in  an- 
other the  artistic  and  aesthetic  might  prevail  over  the  strictly 
religious,  while  in  a  third  a  politically  conservative  one  might 
predominate.    We  find  that  this  really  occurred  here. 

While  we  clearly  see  a  total  indifference  in  Winckelmann's 
change,  about  the  middle  of  the  previous  century,  we  find  in 
Stolberg  the  predominance  of  a  practical  religious  motive. 
In  Frederick  Schlegel,  on  the  other  hand,  with  the  religious 
motive  there  is  also  visible  the  influence  of  Eomanticism, 
which  appeared  in  the  foreground  especially  in  Zechariah 
Werner  in  alarming  excess  and  destitute  of  all  moral  support. 
We  see  Romanticism  and  politics  mixed  up  in  a  peculiar 
manner  in  Adam  Müller,  while  in  Lewis  von  Haller  all  the 
enchantment  of  Romanticism  disappears,  and  the  political  side 
is  apparent  alone  in  aristocratic  and  diplomatic  prose.  In  other 
words,  Winckelmann,  in  his  change,  sought  a  free  and  un- 
disturbed access  to  the  scientific  and  artistic  treasures  of 
Rome,  and  a  secure  outward  position;  and  Stolberg,  inward 
peace  and  rest  for  his  soul.  The  Romanticists  strove  for  the 
realization  of  their  Middle  Age  ideals,  Schlegel  aiming  at  a 
purer  one  and  Werner  at  a  distorted  one;  but  Müller  and 
Haller  sought  strongly-established  forms  for  political  life,  and 
thus  the  fulfillment  of  their  peculiar  theory  of  the  state. 
Naturally  enough,  different  elements  pervaded  one  and  the 
same  person,  though  in  various  degrees  of  mixture.  Let  us, 
therefore,  keep  these  different  steps  as  distinct  as  we  can, 


WINCKELMANN'S  APOSTASY  TO  CATHOLICISM. 


297 


specifying  each,  but  without  delaying  on  all  of  them  at  equal 
length. 

We  must  here  go  back  a  few  decades  to  speak  of  Winckel- 
mann,  Lessing's  great  contemporary,  whom  we  have  reserved 
for  the  present  time.  He  was  not  at  all  connected  with  the 
Romantic  school,  being  not  only  much  older  than  it,  but  his 
whole  tendency  constituting  even  the  most  decided  counter- 
part to  the  later  Romanticism.  Winckelmann  did  not  live, 
like  the  Romanticists,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  but  in  the  ancient 
view  of  the  world.  The  classical  world  of  the  Greeks  was 
his  home,  and  the  age  of  Pericles  his  paradise.  This  was 
his  view  before  his  apostasy,  and  he  kept  it  afterward;  he 
was  not  in  the  least  affected  by  the  opposition  between 
Protestantism  and  Catholicism.  He  regarded  every  form  of 
faith  as  a  mere  husk,  though  an  indispensable  covering  for 
representing  itself  to  other  men;  but  he  always  looked  on  it 
as  one  which  could  be  changed  at  will.  In  order  to  be  able 
to  prosecute  his  study  of  antiquity  without  embarrassment  at 
Rome,  he  found  it  most  profitable  to  accommodate  himself  to 
the  religion  prevalent  there.  "He  felt,"  we  read  in  Goethe's 
work  on  Winckelmann  and  his  Century,  "  that,  in  order  to  be 
a  Roman  in  Rome,  it  was  necessary  to  become  inwardly  inter- 
woven with  the  prevalent  life,  to  enjoy  intimate  friendship,  and 
of  necessity  to  become  a  member  of  the  Romish  church,  to 
subscribe  to  its  faith  and  adopt  its  ceremonies."1  He  there- 
fore entered  into  negotiations  with  the  papal  nuncio,  through 
the  confessor  of  the  King  of  Poland,  and  renounced  the  Prot- 
estant confession  of  faith  in  Dresden,  in  1754.  He  did  all  this 
with  the  greatest  indifference ;  after  his  return  to  Protestantism, 
he  even  scoffed  at  the  Catholic  ceremonies  which  he  had  been 
compelled  to  perform,  with  a  frivolousness  which  no  well- 
meaning  Protestant  would  indulge   in  against  a  Catholic.2 

1  p.  403. 

2  He  writes  as  follows  in  his  letters  {Werke,  Vol.  IX.  p.  109),  soon 
after  Iiis  apostasy:  "I  am  compelled  to  eat  lenten  food  three  days  in 
the  week,  because  there  are  some  Catholics  in  the  Association  who 
know  me.  ...  At  first,  I  was  ashamed  when  some  heretics  who 
knew  me,  saw  me  kneel  at  mass,  but  I  became  bolder;  yet  nobody  would 


208 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Indeed,  he  confessed  to  his  friends,  that  nothing  else  than  love 
for  the  sciences  induced  him  to  "change  his  skin." 

As  may  be  easily  seen,  this  sentiment  is  closely  connected 
with  that  which  had  been  spread  by  French  and  English 
Deism  to  Germany,  and  which  controlled  many  priests  and 
laymen  even  in  the  Catholic  church,  and  it  can  only  make  a 
sad  impression  on  us  when  a  man  of  such  high  culture  could 
be  guilty  of  such  great  frivolity.  Are  we  unjust  to  him  if  we 
say  that  he  only  changed  his  Protestant  for  Catholic  heathen- 
ism? How  different  with  Stolberg,  whose  departure  from 
Protestantism  is  the  perfect  opposite  to  that  of  Winckelmann ! 
That  which  was  easily  imitated  by  the  latter,  only  occurred 
in  the  former  by  hard  conflicts;  and  while  a  love  for  Roman 
and  Grecian  antiquity  led  one  to  this  extreme  step,  in  Stol- 
berg, who  was  also  at  first  a  great  admirer  of  antiquity,  a 
breach  with  classical  antiquity  took  the  precedence.  Stolberg 
did  not  take  the  way  to  Rome  through  heathendom,  but 
through  Judaism.  The  more  he  was  impressed  to  adore  the 
God  of  the  Old  Testament,  the  God  of  the  patriarchs,  of 
Moses,  of  David  and  of  the  prophets,  as  the  only  true  God, 
and  to  bring  all  else,  everything  worldly,  and  himself,  as  an 
offering  to  Him,  the  more  did  it  become  his  principle  that, 
"everything  is  vanity  whose  basis  and  object  are  not  God," — 

see  me  if  I  did  not  hear  mass  from  11  to  12  o'clock,  when  there  is 
music.  .  .  .  - 1  have  a  very  soft  kneeling-leather,  which  one  must  have 
to  kneel  on  Catholically,  in  good  grace.  ...  I  have  laid  down  my 
fur  in  winter,  but  in  summer  I  shall  merely  use  a  couple  of  boxing- 
gloves  for  kneeling  devoutly.  I  notice  that  something  is  still  very 
necessary  for  my  salvation.  "When  I  would  make  the  cross  with  my 
right  hand,  the  left  hand  comes  forward,  to  the  great  offence  of  those 
near  me.  ...  I  was  ashed  over  on  Ash- Wednesday ;  I  trembled 
through  fear  of  covering  my  head  wrongly,  lest  the  holy  filth  should  be 
smeared  almost  into  my  mouth.  I  have  also  confessed  anew  many 
beautiful  things,  which  are  better  said  in  Latin  than  in  my  mother- 
tongue.  ...  I  was  enjoined  to  pray  seven  Pater  Nosters  and  as  many 
Ave  Marias.  You  see  that  the  holy  church  is  a  very  good  mother. 
Unluckily,  I  cannot  pray  the  Ave  Marias,  and  need  not  pray  the  Pater 
Nosters,  owing  to  the  fashion  even  for  Bohemians.  Won't  I  soon  make 
fun  for  you  by  becoming  a  Catholic?" 


stolberg's  admiration  of  lavater.  299 

the  living  God  of  revelation,  the  God  of  the  Bible, — and  the 
more  did  he  feel  it  necessary  to  serve  this  God  in  such  a 
way  as  seemed  only  possible  to  him,  under  existing  circum- 
stances, in  the  Romish  church.  The  ground  for  this  phe- 
nomenon must  be  sought  in  the  events  of  his  life. 

Frederick  Leopold,  Count  Stolberg,  was  born  in  Bramstädt, 
Holstein,  in  1750,  and  received  an  orthodox  Lutheran  train- 
ing. He  studied  in  Göttingen,  and  there  united  with  that 
poetical  club  which,  known  by  the  name  of  the  Grove  Club, 
paved  the  way  in  German  literature  for  Schiller  and  Goethe. 
Hölty,  Bürger,  Voss,  with  Christian,  the  elder  brother  of 
Stolberg,  were  its  members.  Here  Stolberg  revelled  in  the 
ideas  of  political  freedom.  During  a  Swiss  tour  in  1775  he 
made  Lavater's  acquaintance,  with  whom  he  was  ardently 
prepossessed.  He  wrote  to  Claudius  the  following  enthusiastic 
utterances  on  the  impression  produced  upon  him  by  Lavater 
as  a  man,  as  the  head  of  a  family,  as  a  member  of  society, 
and  as  a  preacher: 

"When  my  imagination  is  wearied  by  the  enjoyments  of 
travel,  and  would  like  to  rest  out,  I  enter  the  home  of  Lavater. 
I  always  feel  happy  just  as  soon  as  I  cross  the  threshold 
of  this  beloved  house.  Inward  peace,  calm  and  blissful  enjoy- 
ment, have  often  filled  my  soul  even  before  I  saw  him,  when 
his  happy  and  prattling  children  ran  to  meet  me,  or  when  I 
saw  his  devoted,  mild  and  amiable  wife  through  the  half- 
opened  door  of  the  adjoining  room.  And  when  I  saw  the 
man  himself,  and  when  he  embraced  all  three  of  us  with 
hearty  love  in  his  arms  — !  Oh,  my  dear  Claudius,  you  must  see 
him  for  yourself!  Burning  tears  stream  from  my  eyes  upon 
this  sheet,  and  I  am  in  want  of  proper  words  to  speak  of 
Lavater;  yet  I  will  stammer  out  something  about  him,  be- 
cause you,  too,  love  him  so  dearly.  .  .  .  His  heart  gains 
on  me  as  I  become  more  intimately  acquainted  with  his 
talents, — his  heart,  which  is  inflamed  with  zeal  and  sweet 
tolerance,  which  can  throw  itself  open  to  many  friends,  and 
to  every  one  as  if  he  were  the  only  one!  ...  He  is  al- 
ways as  simple  as  a  child,  and  yet  how  great,  overflowing, 
bold,  free,  full  of  heroic  courage,  pure  in  his  untarnished 

Vol.  II.— 20 


300 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


feelings !  .  .  .  When  he  relaxes  in  the  intimate  circle  of  a 
few  friends,  and  the  flames  of  his  genius  and  the  outpouring 
of  his  noble  heart  ravish  his  listeners;  when  he  lightens 
up  the  lowest  depths  and  their  every  recess  by  the  quickness, 
power  and  splendor  of  his  perception;  when  he  observes  in 
ordinary  objects  a  thousand  new  and  interesting  phases;  when 
he  piles  thought  upon  thought  and  flash  upon  flash;  .  .  . 
or  when  he  leads  a  friend  in  the  confidential  evening  hour 
to  the  roof  of  his  house,  and  becomes  silently  blissful  by  the 
last  beams  of  the  setting  sun  resting  on  the  rosy,  snow-clad 
peaks,  and  this  bliss  then  flows  from  his  lips  into  the  heart 
of  his  friend — !  Oh,  my  Claudius,- when  he  sweetly  ravishes 
himself  and  his  friends  to  such  feelings,  one's  soul  hangs  upon 
those  lips,  from  which  language  flows  like  honey!  You  go 
home  with  the  composure  and  bliss  which  that  one  had  who 
said,  that  he  'always  left  Plato's  banquet  with  a  fuller  soul!'"1 

I  have  purposely  communicated  this  passage,  because  I  be- 
lieve that  it  gives  us  a  better  view  of  Stolberg's  feeling  at 
that  time  than  any  general  remarks  could  present.  Stolberg 
was  so  much  a  man  of  feeling  that  he  mixed  the  sensuous 
and  fantastical,  and  he  must  therefore  have  felt  more  in- 
wardly related  to  the  sensitive  Lavater,  Pfenninger,  Claudius, 
and  others,  than  to  the  more  coldly-thinking  and  critical 
Voss.  The  latter  took  it  very  hard  when  Stolberg,  in  a  letter 
in  which  he  speaks  of  Lavater  so  "  impassionately  and  bom- 
bastically,1' sent  no  salutation  to  him,  the  "  man  of  reason." 2 

Stolberg  was  married  in  1782  to  Agnes  von  Witzleben, 
who  died  six  years  afterward,  and  left  behind  a  son  and  three 
daughters.  About  this  time  Voss  went  to  Eutin,  and  there 
the  old  friendship  formed  at  the  university  was  renewed,  not- 

1  Deutsches  Museum,  1776,  Vol.  I.  p.  42  ff.  He  speaks  with  equal 
enthusiasm  of  Lavater's  sermons;  the  passage  deserves  to  be  re-read. 

2  See  his  work:  Wie  ward  Fritz  Stolberg  ein  Unfreier'?,  in  the  Sophron- 
izon,  1819.  No.  3.  p.  9. — Voss  observes,  that  Lessing,  who  was  at  that 
time  in  Hamburg,  already  perceived  the  worm-hole  in  the  premature 
genius.  And,  indeed,  the  "sweet  self-ravishment"  is  somewhat  offensive 
to  a  healthy  and  vigorous  taste,  but  the  whole  stream  of  enthusiasm 
must  not  be  regarded  poisonous  because  of  this  muddy  tributary. 


CAUSE  OF  STOLBERG'S  APOSTASY. 


301 


withstanding  the  diversity  of  sentiment.  According  to  Voss's 
own  assurance,  Agnes  reigned  as  an  angel  of  peace  between 
the  friends  who  thought  and  felt  so  differently.  Soon  after 
her  death  the  French  Revolution  broke  out,  for  the  ideas  of 
which  Stolberg  had  been  at  first  very  enthusiastic,  but  which 
he  soon  afterward  exchanged  for  a  different  view.  He  was 
afraid  that  his  future  might  not  be  prosperous.  We  lay  aside 
the  question,  whether  he  changed  his  political  opinions  because 
his  position  with  the  monarchy  and  the  nobility  was  endan- 
gered. But  after  all  that  we  know  about  his  religious  con- 
flicts, it  seems  hard  to  assert  that  a  merely  wounded  pride 
of  nobility  drove  him  into  the  Catholic  church.  Stolberg, 
meanwhile,  became  the  royal  Danish  Ambassador  at  Berlin, 
and  in  1790  he  married  the  Countess  Sophia  von  Redern. 
In  the  spring  of  1791  he  made  a  journey  to  Italy  in  com- 
pany with  his  second  wife,  as  Voss  imagines,  not  on  account 
of  the  beauties  of  art,  but  of  the  Romish  worship,  whose 
sensuous  symbolism  had  been  praised  in  a  song  by  even 
Lavater.1  He  took  the  road  leading  through  Münster,  where 
he  spent  two  days  and  a  half  in  the  house  of  the  Princess 
Galitzin,  that  distinguished  German  lady  who,  having  re- 
nounced the  world,  and  the  philosophy  of  Voltaire  and  Diderot, 
became  a  scholar  of  the  Christian  philosopher  Hemsterhuis,2 
and  who  was  continually  led  further  into  the  nature  of  Catho- 
lic Christianity  by  association  with  Minister  Fürstenberg  and 
some  Catholic  clergymen. 

Meanwhile,  it  is  well  to  bear  in  mind  that  Roman  Catholic 
Christianity,  with  its  outward  righteousness  of  works  and  its 
dead  ordinances,  was  less  fostered  in  the  Münster  circles 
than  that  Christianity  of  feeling  which  was  connected  with 
German  Mysticism,  which  was  regarded  by  many  people  of 

1  Poem  addressed  to  Sarasin  and  Pfeffel,  1781.    See  end  of  Lecture 

2  Francis  Hemsterhuis  (born  1720,  f  1790),  a  Protestant  thinker  of 
refined  feeling,  who  has  been  called  the  Plato  of  the  18th  centupy.  He 
dedicated  a  number  of  his  works  to  the  Princess  under  the  name  ot 
Diotima.  On  the  powerful  impression  which  the  Princess,  who  excelled 
in  intellectual  culture  all  the  contemporaries  of  her  sex,  made  on  every 
intellectually  great  man,  comp.  Life  of  Perthes  (Edinb.  Ed.),  p.  72  ff. 


302 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


that  day  as  Pietism.  It  was  the  Christianity  of  Lavater, 
Hamann  and  Claudius,  though  it  had  a  Catholic  coloring,  and 
comprised  membership  with  the  Catholic  church.1  These 
Münster  impressions  seem  to  have  taken  a  far  deeper  root 
in  Stolberg  than  the  Romish  ones,  though  the  pomp  of  the 
Catholic  church  may  have  also  contributed  in  bribing  the 
imagination  of  the  poet,  which  was  susceptible  of  such  im- 
pressions. 

If  Stolberg  had  never  been  in  Rome,  the  Münster  friends 
would  have  exerted  the  same  influence  over  him.  He  hence- 
forth remained  in  union  with  these  German  Catholic  friends. 
The  view  of  Christianity  proceeding  from  and  reacting  upon 
the  heart,  as  it  was  there  fostered,  continued  to  predominate 
in  him  over  the  purely  rational;  and  one  could  sooner  say 
that  he  was  more  overpowered  by  Pietistic  than  Catholic 
views.  His  zeal  expressed  itself  with  increasing  strength,  not 
so  much  against  Luther  and  the  Reformation  of  the  sixteenth 
century  as  against  the  Protestantism  of  the  eighteenth,  and 
the  skeptical  tendencies  of  his  day.  Indeed,  before  he  be- 
came a  Catholic  he  was  rather  an  orthodox  Lutheran.  He 
proved  this  by  opposing  with  all  his  power  the  introduction 
of  a  Rationalistic  ritual  in  Holstein.  In  sentiment  he  united 
with  Kleuker,  whom  we  are  already  acquainted  with  as  one 
of  the  few  theologians  of  the  day  who  believed  in  revelation, 
and  whom  Voss  unjustly  calls  "a  dark  head."  We  cannot 
suppose  that  Stolberg  was  at  that  time  a  Catholic  at  heart, 
and  that  his  zeal  for  orthodox  Lutheranism  was  merely  hypo- 
critical; otherwise  Claudius,  Lavater,  Hamann,  Eleuker,  and 

1  "We  find  different  expressions  on  the  Princess  and  her  friends  in 
the  Correspondence  between  Goethe  and  F.  H.  Jacobi.  Thus  Goethe  writes 
of  her  (December  1st,  1785):  "She  is  a  precious  soul,  and  I  am  not 
surprised  that  she  is  so  attractive  to  men."  Jacobi,  on  the  other  hand 
(1794),  says:  "Her  literalness  and  pressure  have  always  made  my  life 
seem  morose  when  in  her  company.  There  is  now  added  the  most 
miserable  Catholic  Pietism,  which  she  would  like  to  make  tolerant 
against  its  own  nature.  Too  bad  for  the  glorious  being  with  a  truly 
princely  spirit,  which  strives  to  be  perfectly  sincere  and  yet  never  can 
be  fully  so!  Her  prejudices  deceive  her,  corrupt  her  eye,  her  ear 
and  her  tongue,  in  a  way  I  cannot  understand." 


stolberg's  formal  apostasy. 


303 


even  Jacobi  and  many  others,  who  preferred  a  pious  Catholic 
who  was  enthusiastic  for  his  religion  to  a  merely  negative 
Protestant,  must  pass  as  secret  Catholics.  And  they  did  pass 
for  such  with  many  persons.  But  while  they,  with  their 
sentiments,  remained  firm  to  the  Protestant  church,  Stolberg 
could  not  occupy  this  point  of  view.  He  felt  isolated  in  the 
turmoil.  Thus  he  was  drawn  over  to  the  church  which  he 
regarded  as  a  continuation  and  completion  of  God's  covenant 
with  man  in  the  Old  Testament.  The  representation  of  a 
visible  theocracy  on  earth  became  to  him  an  historical  ne- 
cessity.  His  formal  apostasy  occurred  in  Münster  in  1800. 

The  step  was  disapproved  most  decidedly  not  only  by  Voss, 
who  little  knew  how  to  transfer  himself  to  the  religious 
thinking  and  feeling  of  his  former  Göttingen  friend,  and  who, 
with  all  his  psychology,  very  unpsychologically  attributed  it 
all  to  the  pride  of  nobility,  which  he  so  much  hated,  and  to 
papal  schemes,  but  also  by  the  men  who  had  formerly  shared 
with  him  the  same  tendency  of  feeling,  particularly  by  Lavater, 
whom  he  highly  esteemed,  and  who  re:pected  him  highly  in  re- 
turn. It  was  also  done  by  Jacobi.  Jacobi  attributes  it  to  a  mix- 
ture of  passions,  at  which  hell  bursts  out  in  scornful  laughter; 
and  even  Lavater  came  out  in  strong  language  against  his 
friend.1  Stolberg  bitterly  complains  that  Jacobi,  who  had 
opened  his  house  to  the  atheistical  Fichte,  closed  it  to  him. 
And  Jacobi  really  declared  that  Stolberg's  presence  would 
kill  him.  But  just  these  men  who  knew  the  full  meaning  of 
true  religious  life,  as  active  in  Stolberg,  were  all  the  more 
irritated  when  Stolberg  gave  them  to  understand,  by  entering 
the  Catholic  church,  that  they  themselves  had  stopped  half 
way  on  the  road  to  salvation,  or  when  he  helped  to  strengthen 
anew  the  long-entertained  suspicion,  that  they  themselves 
would,  after  all,  make  proselytes  for  Kome,  and  were  even 
in  secret  harmony  with  the  Catholics.  As  for  this  suspicion, 
we  may  ask:  with  what  right  was  it  entertained?  It  is  true 
that  Lavater  had  many  friends  among  the  Catholics,  men  who 
suited  his  heart  better  than  the  negative  minds  in  the  Protest- 
ant world;  but  Lavater  distinguished  between  ideal  and  Roman 

1  Comp,  the  passages  in  Geher,  p.  106  ff. 


304 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Catholicism,  and  prized  the  elevation  of  the  former  as  much 
as  he  despised  the  arrogance  and  intolerance  of  the  latter. 

But  how  came  Jacobi,  who  was  related  to  positive  Chris- 
tianity even  as  a  skeptic,  to  pass  for  a  secret  Catholic? 
He  had,  however,  injured  his  position  among  the  skeptics  by 
his  lengthy  and  undue  attachment  to  a  man  who  was  justifiably 
suspected  of  secretly  entertaining  Catholic  views.  This  was 
Stark,  the  Lutheran  Chief  Court  Preacher  in  Darmstadt, 
whose  anonymous  work,  Theodule's  Feast,  had  aimed  at  the 
union  of  the  Christian  religious  parties,  and  in  which  undue 
concessions  were  made  to  Catholicism.  He  wras  said  to  have 
renounced  the  Protestant  confession  of  faith  in  Dresden  (ac- 
cording to  some,  in  the  Church  of  St.  Sulpice,  in  Paris),  and 
yet  remained  outwardly  a  Protestant  preacher  until  his  death. 
After  his  death,  in  1816,  there  was  found  in  his  house  a 
room  perfectly  arranged  for  reading  the  mass,  and  he  him- 
self wished  to  be  buried  in  consecrated  ground.  Now  this 
would  undoubtedly  be  a  proof  that,  though  the  skeptics  some- 
times carry  their  Jesuitical  suspicions  too  far,  and  even  per- 
secute many  an  innocent  one  with  the  very  intolerance  which 
they  reproach  in  their  opponents,  their  apprehensions  were 
not  altogether  unfounded.  And  therefore  even  Voss's  bitter- 
ness against  Stolberg  may  be  excused  on  the  score  of  his 
Protestant  zeal.  But  Stolberg,  even  after  joining  the  Catholic 
church,  had  less  zeal  for  Romish  forms  and  popish  ordinances 
than  a  warm  and  impressive  commendation  of  positive  Biblical 
Christianity  and  of  a  faith  active  in  love. 

A  beautiful  evidence  of  this  feeling  is  furnished  by  the 
Dedication  to  his  sons  and  daughters,  in  the  year  1806,  at 
the  commencement  of  his  History  of  the  Religion  of  Jesus 
Christ,  from  which  I  will  make  some  extracts.  That  con- 
trolling principle  which  Stolberg  had  adopted  even  before 
becoming  a  Catholic,  that  "  everything  is  vanity  whose  basis 
and  object  are  not  God"  (and  no  one  can  unite  with  Voss  in 
calling  it  Jesuitical),  pervades  this  Dedication.1  "Love  for  God 

1  "We  do  not  deny  that  the  principle  may  be  interpreted  Jesuitically 
in  majorem  Dei  gloriam;  but  in  itself  it  is  as  anti-Jesuitical  as  possible, 
and  as  thoroughly  Protestant  as  any  declaration  of  a  Protestant  sym- 


STOLBERG's  "  RELIGION  OF  JESUS  CHRIST.'''  305 

is  our  destiny,  and  we  should  love  ourselves  in  God.  That 
which  misses  its  destiny  turns  out  badly.  The  natural  man 
anticipates  this  bad  state,  but  he  does  not  understand  it; 
therefore  all  presumed  blessings  leave  him  empty,  though 
they  seem  to  him  very  fine.  .  .  .  Neither  man  nor  any 
rational  creature  can  find  rest  except  in  God,  and  in  the 
hope  of  enjoying  God  eternally.  Because  man  is  alienated 
from  God  by  sin,  he  acts  contrary  to  his  original  destiny, 
and  immediately  feels  inward  dissatisfaction.  We  very  prop- 
erly call  it  conscience.  Man  knows,  even  without  being 
taught,  that  his  inward  nature  is  disordered  by  sin;  and  if 
he  would  deny  it,  his  blush  would  accuse  him  of  falsehood. 
In  addition  to  conscience,  God  also  reveals  himself  to  us  in 
nature,  but  the  history  of  all  ages  teaches  us  how  little  men 
regarded  these  revelations.  They  abused  nature,  and  bowed 
before  the  creature,  and,  to  deceive  their  conscience,  they 
surrendered  their  own  wicked  lusts  to  idols.  But  God  has 
also  revealed  himself  immediately  to  men  since  the  origin  of 
the  species.  No  sooner  had  man  fallen  from  him  than  his 
compassion  went  out  after  him;  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ 
was  his  consoling  and  sanctifying  companion,  .  .  .  whose 
promise  was  his  guiding-star  through  the  Old  Testament. 
Its  appearance  brought  us  day,  and  in  its  light  we  should  walk. 

"The  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  teaches  us  to  perceive  God; 
by  it  God  invites  us  to  love  him,  and  by  it  he  invites  us  to 
eternal  salvation.  If  we  would  heed  this  invitation,  we  must 
believe  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  .  .  .  The  misery  of 
our  nature  lies  in  our  diseased  will,  and  our  salvation  lies 
in  the  recovery  of  our  will.  Our  will  is  in  our  heart,  and 
therefore  God  speaks  to  the  heart.  The  religion  of  Jesus 
Christ  is  a  proposition  for  marriage,  a  wooing  of  love.  The 
holy  fear  of  God  not  only  does  not  exclude  love,  but  leads  to 
love;  it  is  a  filial  fear  ever  connecting  itself  more  with  love. 
The  true  and  holy  fear  of  God  excludes  the  fear  of  every- 
thing which  is  not  God,  gives  heroic  courage  toward  every 

bol.  Does  not  the  whole  Protestant  doctrine  of  sin  rest  on  the  natural 
man's  loving  other  objects  better  than  God?    Comp.  Art.  I.  of  the 

Apology  of  the  Augsburg  Confession. 


306 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


creature,  and  fears  only  Him.  ...  No  one  has  ever  attained 
to  godliness  without  the  fear  of  God ;  it  educates  the  soul,  as 
the  law  was  the  school-master  of  the  chosen  people. 

"And  what  shall  we  say  of  love,  whose  idea  alone  gives 
religion?  .  .  .  What  can  appear  desirable,  beautiful  and 
good,  which  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  does  not  afford?  Do 
you  strive  after  joy?  It  gives  eternal  bliss,  whose  hope  even 
here  on  earth  far  outweighs  all  the  joys  and  sufferings  of  time. 
After  long  life?  It  gives  immortality.  After  rest?  It  alone  gives 
rest  on  earth,  amid  the  storms  of  life,  .  .  .  and  therefore  rest 
hereafter.  After  peace  ?  The  salutation  with  which  the  Lord 
will  bless  his  followers  will  be:  'Peace  be  with  you!'  What 
is  the  peace  of  this  world?  The  Son  of  God  gives  true  peace. 
Do  you  strive  after  friendship?  Where  is  it  safer,  more 
hearty,  and  more  enduring  than  among  the  followers  of  the 
Beloved  One,  who  strive  without  envy  after  but  one  object, 
and  who  gain  by  the  sympathy  of  each  other?  Where  does 
the  holy  love  of  one  get  inflamed  by  that  of  another?  Do 
you  strive  after  greatness?  What  is  greater  than  the  adoption 
of  God?  After  power?  Is  not  he  who  wishes  what  God  wishes, 
the  participant,  in  a  certain  measure,  of  his  omnipotence? 
After  freedom?  The  Gospel  is  the  perfect  law  of  liberty. 
After  wisdom?  It  is  only  the  wisdom  of  religion  which  de- 
serves the  name.  After  virtue?  What  virtue  does  not  the 
religion  of  Jesus  Christ  teach  and  impart?  It  is  pure  virtue, 
because  exercised  for  God's  sake;  it  is  safe,  because  led  by 
the  hand  of  sweet  humility,  that  daughter  of  religion,  who, 
though  despised  by  the  world,  has  a  heavenly  feeling,  and 
though  regarded  cowardly,  has  the  boldness  of  a  lion,  because 
it  relies  with  filial  confidence  only  on  God's  strength,  and  is 
strong  in  his  strength.  Do  you  strive  after  love  ?  The  whole 
spirit  of  this  religion  is  love ;  it  is  a  love  of  which  men  would 
have  had  no  conception  without  it.  In  it  love  is  the  bond 
of  perfectness.  All  the  virtues  which  it  teaches  are  established 
by  it  on  the  love  of  God;  all  the  virtues  which  it  imparts, 
proceed  from  love  for  God.  .  .  .  What  vital  breath  of  love 
pervades  the  whole  of  the  New  Testament!  All  religion  is 


stolberg's  faith  not  essentially  changed.  307 

only  one  bond  of  the  eternal  love  of  believers  among  each 
other,  with  God,  in  Jesus  Christ." 

This  may  suffice  to  give  us  an  idea  of  Stolberg's  Chris- 
tian feelings  after  he  became  a  Catholic.  You  will  have  ob- 
served here  the  same  views  that  we  perceived  in  Hamann, 
Claudius,  and  Lavater;  which  have  been  found  among  the 
adherents  of  positive  Christianity  in  all  ages,  and  which  the 
Protestant  can  and  must  accept  as  well  as  the  Catholic,  if 
he  would  not  lapse  into  empty  negation.  Stolberg  explains 
these  views,  in  the  same  Dedication  to  his  children,  as  the 
one  thing  needful;  and  though  he  also  gives  vent  to  strong 
expressions  against  the  prevailing  philosophy  and  the  usur- 
pation of  reason,  etc.,  they,  like  similar  utterances  that  have 
ever  been  heard  in  the  Protestant  church,  proceed  from  the 
standpoint  of  a  one-sided  Supernaturalism.  No  where  in  the 
whole  Dedication,  which  we  have  gone  through  carefully,  do  we 
find  anything  strictly  Roman  Catholic,  or  any  mention  of  the 
power  of  the  pope,  of  hierarchy,  of  the  sacrifice  of  the  mass, 
of  ceremonies,  and  the  like ;  and  still  less  is  there  a  trace  of 
the  outward  righteousness  of  works  and  of  the  merit  of  good 
works,  or  of  the  condemnation  of  heretics.  The  only  thing 
which  betrays  even  very  gently  the  Catholic,  is  a  passage  in 
which  we  read:  "The  temple  which  truly  Christian  faith 
erects,  stands  unshaken  in  its  simplicity  and  grandeur  before 
the  eyes  of  the  world.  Divine  record  and  holy  tradition 
unite  in  the  highest  curve  of  the  stone-arches  that  support 
it.  Its  high  vault  opens  to  the  light  of  heaven,  which  illumi- 
nates some  parts  of  the  temple,  and  leaves  some  consecrated 
halls  in  holy  twilight.  The  fire  of  heaven  kindles  the  flame 
of  devotion  on  the  altar,  and  holy  prayer  rises  in  the  smoke  of 
incense.  It  is  only  in  this  temple  that  we  are  instructed  on  our 
true  mission"  (p.  xix).  This  undoubtedly  expresses  sympathy 
with  the  "only  saving  church,"  but  the  idea  of  which  is 
so  indefinite  and  loose  that  we  might  think  of  the  church  in 
general,  of  the  invisible  fellowship  of  believers,  if  tradition, 
which  is  mentioned  with  the  Bible,  and  the  smoke  of  incense, 
which  can  hardly  be  allegorically  designed,  did  not  refer  more 
definitely  to  the  Roman  Catholic  church. 


308 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


It  is  therefore  clear  to  us  from  the  foregoing,  that  the 
substance  of  Stolberg's  faith  remained  the  same  after  he  be- 
came a  Catholic  as  before;  he  only  believed  that  this  sub- 
stance could  be  sustained  safely  only  in  the  Catholic  church. 
And  herein  lay  his  error.  He  knew  that  he  was  in  possession 
of  the  blessing  of  faith,  which  his  Protestant  friends  enjoyed 
with  him;  but  he,  strongly  believing  that  the  same  Power 
which  had  rebuked  the  wind  and  the  waves  would  still  dis- 
play its  salvation,  thought  that  this  blessing  could  only  be 
saved  from  ruin  by  being  brought  on  board  of  the  great  ship, 
while  they  continually  committed  it  to  the  vessel  which  had 
become  weak  on  the  storm-tossed  waves.  Stolberg's  error 
therefore  consisted  essentially  in  misconceiving  the  vital  power 
still  contained  in  Protestantism.  His  Münster  friends,  sup- 
ported by  the  many  experiences  which,  however,  they  narrowly 
brought  into  the  account,  had  persuaded  him  that  "Protest- 
antism will  continue  to  protest  until  it  protests  from  the  princes 
their  kingdom,  and  from  God  his  divinity;  that  it  is  a  suc- 
cession of  ciphers  without  any  unit  standing  before  them." 
And,  as  if  the  Romish  unit  were  the  only  one,  he  united 
with  this  communion,  not  delaying  to  think  how  much  else 
he  had  to  take  into  the  bargain  in  order  to  be  sure  of  his  gain. 
But  while  other  apostates  placed  chief  emphasis  on  the  Roman 
forms,  this  was  less  the  case  with  Stolberg.1  He  manifests 
the  Romantic  sympathies  of  the  Middle  Ages  much  less  than 
Novalis,  who  outwardly  continued  in  the  Protestant  church. 
Likewise  the  Romantic  poetry  is  innocent  of  Stolberg's  apos- 
tasy, for,  as  a  poet,  he  belonged  to  that  Göttingen  school 
which  sought  its  models  in  the  ancient  classics. 

But  let  us  turn  now  to  those  with  whom  the  influence  of 

1  Even  in  Stolberg's  Church  History  proper,  a  very  decided  influence 
of  Roman  Ccitholicism  is  but  slightly  perceptible.  The  portion  by  him- 
self only  comes  down  to  the  fifth  century,  when  Roman  Catholic  life 
first  began  to  develop  in  its  broadest  scope.  He  introduces  into  his 
account  the  whole  of  the  Old  Testament,  and,  of  course,  sees  in  the 
Levitical  service  the  original  of  the  Romish,  etc.  But,  on  the  whole, 
Biblical  Supernaturalism  is  even  predominant  here.  Comp.,  on  this 
point,  W.  von  Humboldt's  Briefe  an  eine  Freundin,  Vol.  II.  pp.  91,  101. 


APOSTASY  OF  SCHLEGEL  AND  WERNER.  309 

Romanticism  is  more  definite,  and  is  especially  expressed  in 
a  preference  for  the  forms  of  the  Middle  Ages, — to  the  men 
who  even  helped  to  establish  and  extend  the  Romantic  school 
itself.  If  we  purposed  writing  a  history  of  literature,  we 
should  have  to  treat  elaborately  here  the  brothers  Schlegel 
and  Tieck.  But  we  shall  speak  only  of  those  who  really 
went  out  from  this  school  into  the  Catholic  church,  Frederick 
Schlegel  and  Zechariah  Werner.  Schlegel  unquestionably 
stands  far  above  Werner.  He  is  superior  to  him  in  mind, 
culture,  judgment,  and  moral  and  religious  stability.  In 
Schlegel,  with  all  his  great  service  in  literature,  the  moral 
errors  of  Romanticism  are  presented  in  most  striking  colors, 
for  the  author  of  Lucinde  was  really  the  leader  of  that 
morality  which  disregarded  all  the  limitations  of  so-called 
convenience,  a  system  which  paved  the  way  for  the  eman- 
cipation of  the  flesh;  but  we  would  be  unjust  to  him  to  bring 
into  immediate  connection  with  this  tendency  his  becoming  a 
Catholic,  which  occurred  in  Vienna  in  1808.  Rather,  from 
that  time  his  life,  became  more  serious. 

What  really  moved  him  to  take  this  step?  This  question 
was  asked  at  that  time,  but  there  was  no  definite  answer. 
Zelter  thus  writes  to  Goethe:  "Schlegel  has  suddenly  grown 
wise.  The  'only-saving'  church  has  caught  a  good  fish  in 
him ;  but  yet  I  am  provoked  that  I  ever  thought  anything  of 
him.  What  could  have  caused  him  to  take  this  step?  In 
this  case,  one  thing  has  deceived  the  other  in  clear  sunlight."1 
This  much  is  certain:  that  a  predilection  for  the  Middle  Ages 
and  their  models  had  more  influence  upon  Schlegel  than  upon 
Stolberg.  Schlegel,  even  after  his  apostasy,  adhered  to  his 
scientific  and  literary  life  with  his  full  power.  With  all  his 
extensive  knowledge  and  profound  researches  in  art  and  an- 
tiquity, how  could  he  have  done  differently?  A  tendency  to- 
ward stupidity  and  darkness,  which  has  often  been  charged 
passionately  enough  upon  the  apostates,  is  less  noticeable  in 
him;  but  it  is  clear  that  in  his  Wisdom  of  the  Indians  he 
made  references  to  the  Catholic  faith,  but  that  in  his  Lectures 
on  Literature,  which  he  delivered  in  Vienna,  he  lauded  the 

1  Briefwechsel,  Vol.  I.  p.  223  f. 


310 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


times  of  the  Middle  Ages  as  the  palmy  period,  and,  like 
Novalis,  represented  the  Reformation  as  not  only  an  apostasy 
from  the  faith,  but  from  true  poetry  and  art.  Yet  he  has  a 
higher  and  more  honest  opinion  of  Luther  than  Novalis  had. 
While  the  latter  charges  the  Protestants  with  canonizing 
Luther's  translation  of  the  Bible,  Frederick  Schlegel  acknowl- 
edges "the  unmistakable  merit"  of  this  masterpiece.1  Schlegel 
sees  also  in  Luther's  own  writings  such  an  eloquence  as  sel- 
dom in  the  course  of  centuries  appears  in  any  nation  in  equal 
power.  He  calls  this  eloquence  revolutionary,  but  the  soul 
from  which  it  flowed  was  "manly,  strong  through  God  and 
nature,  and  richly  endowed."  He  does  not  see  empty  dark- 
ness in  Luther,  but  a  struggle  between  light  and  darkness, 
an  impregnably  strong  faith  and  wild  passion. 

Yet  Schlegel  confesses  that  Luther's  writings  produce  on 
him  the  impression  of  the  pity  we  have  when  we  see  how 
a  grand  and  lofty  nature  is  ruined  by  its  own  folly,  and  con- 
signs itself  to  destruction.  But  he  can  understand  that  others 
look  at  the  matter  differently,  and  even  believes  that  Luther, 
in  respect  to  his  power,  is  not  worthily  appreciated  even  by 
his  admirers.  He  declares  him  the  man  whose  duty  it  was, 
and  on  whose  soul  the  burden  was  laid,  to  develop  his  times; 
the  man  of  the  age  and  nation  who  decided  everything. 
"  Luther,"  Schlegel  continues,  "  was  a  very  popular  writer.  No 
country  in  modern  Europe  except  Germany  has  ever  had 
such  remarkable,  comprehensive,  and  effective  popular  writers, 
who  were  extraordinary  because  of  their  intellectual  power." 

Schlegel  wrote  this  when  a  Catholic,  and  we  may  feel 
proud  of  this  testimony.  He  speaks  with  the  same  appre- 
ciation of  the  poetic  minstrel  Hans  Sachs,  and  of  the  Teutonic 
philosopher  Jacob  Boehme,  whom  he  places  very  high,  next 
to  Schelling.  Schlegel  strove  to  build  up  his  Catholicism 
scientifically,  and  also  to  be  as  just  as  possible  to  other  forms 
of  religion.  He  ingeniously  distinguishes  in  the  history  of 
the  world  four  powers,  which  bind  together  and  move  human 
society:  1.  The  power  of  money  and  trade,  which  he  calls 
the  guild.  2.  The  power  of  the  sword,  both  the  military  and 

1  See  Vorlemnyen  über  Litteratur,  p.  246. 


schlegel's  views  on  the  history  of  the  world.  311 


the  legal;  this  he  calls  the  state.  3.  The  gracious  power  of 
divine  consecration  (on  which  are  based  all  kinds  of  priesthood 
and  every  religious  association),  which  alone  affords  in- 
ward peace  and  gives  the  higher  sanction  to  outward  peace. 
This  higher  intellectual  life  is  fostered  and  developed  in  the 
church,  whose  holy  and  universal  bond  reunites  the  nations 
politically  sundered,  and  in  time  will  join  the  later  generations 
to  the  former.  4.  The  fourth  power  is  science,  or  the  school, 
which  is  now  united  more  intimately  with  the  state  and  now 
with  the  church,  or,  finally,  is  led  into  dependence  on  worldly 
power,  and  is  thus  made  subservient  to  industrial  purposes. 

It  is  very  natural  that  Schlegel  should  find  happiness  just 
in  the  union  of  science  with  the  church,  and  in  the  depend- 
ence of  the  school  on  the  church,  and  that  from  this  point 
of  view  he  can  see  in  the  forms  of  science  that  arose 
independently  of  the  church,  and  therefore  in  the  new  Prot- 
estant science,  nothing  less  than  a  decline  from  rectitude. 
But  like  Novalis,  he  also  expects  an  age  when  the  German 
spirit  shall  help  to  supremacy  Christian  philosophy,  which 
will  not  be  established  like  a  sect,  but  must  mature  like  a 
living  tree  through  the  root  of  revelation  acknowledged  to 
be  divine.  When  this  light  of  the  highest  knowledge,  from 
which  history  and  mythology,  languages  and  natural  sciences, 
poetry  and  art,  are  only  the  single  beams,  shall  have  dawned, 
Frederick  Schlegel  hopes  that  the  pantheism  still  lurking  here 
and  there  in  natural  philosophy  will  totally  disappear;  that 
a  new  vital  breath  will  be  breathed  into  art,  and  that  the 
higher  intellectual  poetry  of  the  truth,  which  reflects  in  the 
earthly  husk  the  word  of  the  soul,  will  take  the  place  of 
the  false  phantasmagoria.  We  find  what  Schlegel  thus  ex- 
pressed in  his  Lectures,  briefly  and  beautifully  comprised  in 
one  of  his  poems  in  the  following  words: 

"Ne'er  call  him  spiritual 
In  whom  the  Spirit's  light  shines  not. 
Faith's  bright  guiding-star  is  knowledge, 
And  worship  is  wisdom's  substance; 
Thou  may'st  teach  and  learn  all  science, 
But  if  thou  wantest  feeling's  power 
And  the  heart's  fervent  emotion, 


312 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Soon  sinks  thy  wisdom  to  the  dust. 
Thou  see'st  nothing  more  beautiful 
Than  when  these  two  go  hand  in  hand: 
The  bright  sunlight  of  great  wisdom, 
And  the  calm  duty  of  the  Church." 

Now  if  we  regard  the  church  here  to  be  the  church  of  Christ, 
and  understand  the  proposition  to  be  simply  that  faith  and 
knowledge  mu^t  ever  pervade  each  other,  we,  as  Protestants, 
may  adopt  it.  We  cannot  conceal  the  fact,  that  in  Schlegel's 
ideas  there  is  something  witty,  considerate,  and  beneficially 
inciting.  What  floats  in  Novalis  in  obscure  feelings,  comes 
out  here  in  definite  form,  and  just  because  Schlegel,  with  all 
the  influence  which  he  granted  his  creative  imagination,  does 
full  justice  to  the  understanding,  he  is  also  fair  in  his  estimate 
of  the  church  on  which  he  turned  his  back. 

Comparing  Schlegel  with  Stolberg,  we  find  that  the  latter 
wrongly  sought  in  the  Catholic  church  the  simple  Biblical 
Christianity  which  he  could  have  in  Protestantism,  while 
Schlegel  had  in  view  rather  formal  ecclesiasticism,  Catholicism 
in  its  full  development.  But  we  must  concede  that  Schlegel 
takes  a  grand  view  of  this  ecclesiasticism,  and  though  Stol- 
berg grants  more  expression  to  the  pious  and  honest  spirit, 
Schlegel  is  evidently  more  spirited  and  skillful  in  the  deduction 
of  his  Catholic  system.  Stolberg  seems  to  us  to  be  more 
led  by  others,  to  be  consigned  to  a  foreign  circle  from  which 
he  could  not  any  more  escape,1  while  Schlegel  freely  con- 
trols his  thoughts  and  knows  just  what  he  desires.  But  for 
this  very  reason  his  example  has  operated  more  seductively 
than  that  of  Stolberg,  but  the  charm  of  witticism  and  piquan- 
cy depends  upon  it.  We  cannot  deny  that  Schlegel's  view, 
with  all  its  Catholic  tendency,  rests  upon  a  profounder  con- 
ception of  the  relations  of  history  and  of  life;  and  we  must 
regard  the  root  as  sound,  though  the  branches  have  spread 
out  in  a  wrong  direction. 

Often  in  the  history  of  the  growth  of  Protestantism,  we 

1  In  this  respect  he  certainly  became  bound.  But  it  may  be  asked: 
whether  there  are  not  many  slaves  who  follow  the  standard  of  the  men 
of  freedom? 


THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION  A  BOND  OF  UNION.  313 

have  been  compelled  to  lament  that  faith  and  knowledge, 
which  strengthened  and  supported  each  other  during  the 
Reformation,  were  afterward  sundered;  and  we  believe  that 
the  religion  of  Christ  in  its  historical  definiteness,  but  always 
in  a  manner  appropriate  to  the  necessities  of  the  times,  is 
the  bond  which  must  unite  the  state  and  the  family,  and 
science  and  art,  if  a  truly  prosperous  life  is  to  arise.  Yet 
this  would  not  so  take  place  that  the  Christian  type  of  every 
individual  phenomenon  of  life  must  be  impressed  in  the  same 
way,  but  so  that  nothing  unchristian  obtrude  itself,  and  that 
nothing  which  intrenches  upon  the  development  of  the  whole, 
directly  deny  the  Christian  character.  But  we  do  not  re- 
nounce the  hope  that  this  moral  mission  of  our  age  to  oppose 
these  perverted  tendencies,  will  be  realized  just  in  our  Prot- 
estant church.  It  will  be  fulfilled  in  proportion  as  the  nature 
of  Protestantism  is  perceived  in  all  its  depth  and  historical 
meaning  as  a  power  which  not  merely  clears  up  and  illu- 
minates, but  also  edifies  and  preserves  from  downfall;  as  a 
power  in  unison  with  that  of  divine  truth,  with  that  of  the 
Divine  Word,  by  which  God  will  sustain  us  amid  all  the 
changes  of  human  opinions,  inclinations  and  systems. 

A  PROTESTANT'S  FEELINGS  IN  A  CATHOLIC  CHUECH. 

BY  LAVATEK. 

"Who  knows  Thee  not  yet,  Jesus  Christ, 
And  dishonors  only  Thy  shade, 
Commands  my  profoundest  respect, 
Because  of  the  effort  he's  made. 
Though  his  work  be  fable  and  dream, 
To  Thy  glory  it  hath  been  wrought; 
Though  it  grieve  my  heart  most  keenly, 
It  shall  be  loved, — Christ's  glory  it  sought. 
Though  faint  the  trace,  dear  it  shall  be, 
Because  it  brings  Thee  near  to  me. 

I  will  not  laugh,  but  rather  weep;  — 
Let  him  here  loudly  laugh  who  can, — 
But  for  the  small  he  drops  the  great, 
Obscures  the  true,  and  holds  the  vain. 
To  detect  the  true  in  the  false, 


314 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


To  grasp  it  and  to  feel  its  power, 
Lifting  us  from  the  depth  of  sin, 
Is  high  joy,  of  triumph  the  hour. 
"Weak  brethren  are  ye  around  me, 
"Who  will  not  bend  to  Christ  the  kneel 

What  is  it  that  mine  eyes  behold? 
"What  is  it  that  mine  ears  now  hear? 
Speaks  nought  of  Thee  in  heaven  above, 
Nor  in  these  lovely  vales  so  dear? 
The  cross  —  Thine  image  clad  in  gold — 
Was  it  not  formed  to  honor  Thee? 
The  censer,  swinging  right  and  left, 
The  strains  of  choral  minstrelsy, 
The  taper's  silent,  ceaseless  flame, 
All  mean  the  glory  of  Thy  Name. 

For  what,  except  to  praise  Thy  name, 
The  death  of  Christ,  the  death  of  Love, 
Do  priestly  hands  uplift  the  host? 
Thou  still  art  here  though  still  above. 
To  Thee  the  thronging  multitude 
Bend  low.   The  young  and  early  taught 
Revere  the  cross,  and  sing  the  song 
To  Him  who  every  soul  hath  bought, 
And  smite,  —  seeking  heavenly  rest, — 
With  tender  hand  the  heaving  breast. 

For  Thee  the  people  kiss  in  love 
The  crucifix  —  its  painted  wounds. — 
For  Thee  the  choir-boy  rings  his  bell, 
The  sexton  makes  his  ceaseless  rounds. 
The  heavy  folds  of  priestly  vests, 
The  gathered  wealth  of  distant  climes, 
The  scroll-work  on  the  brave  knight's  shield, 
The  frame  where  Mary's  picture  rests, 
The  string  of  pearls  on  Worship's  hand, 
Mean  Christ,  —  the  Peerless  in  the  land. 

To  whom,  on  marble  altars  high, 

And  noble  walls,  are  green  boughs  hung? 

Whom  do  men  praise  in  choral  lays; 

To  whom  do  mourners  offer  vows; 

To  whom  are  flowers  strewn  along; 

For  whom  are  gilded  banners  made? 

And  when  Ave  Maria  sounds, 

Is  not  to  Thee  such  worship  paid? 


POEM  BY  L AVATER.  315 

At  matin  and  at  vesper  time, 

Is  not  each  worship-whisper  Thine? 

The  bells  within  ten  thousand  spires, 
Bought  by  the  wealth  of  many  a  lord, 
And  given  to  Thee  in  festive  song 
To  save  from  pest,  from  "War's  red  sword, 
"Were  made  to  take  —  a  fluid  mass  — 
Thine  image  in  the  cross  they  bear. 
And  now  they  ply  their  great  life-work, 
Calling  to  labor  and  to  prayer:  — 
Does  not  the  bell,  at  every  peal, 
Declare  Thy  care  for  human  weal? 

0  Christ,  dear  Friend,  full  many  a  one 
Expects  Thine  aid,  believes  Thee  true, 
Longs  for  the  solitary  hours, 
Makes  himself  poor  his  whole  life  through. 
Y>"ithout  Thyself  there  ne'er  had  been 
Nor  tonsure  nor  the  Pater  Noster, 
Nor  Benedict  nor  Bernhard  bands, 
Nor  chapel,  choir,  nor  silent  cloister. 
To  whom  but  Thee,  for  all  who  come, 
Stands  o'er  cell-door:  Silentium? 

0  Christ,  what  joy  have  Thy  children, 

Even  where  graces  are  absent, 

To  see  the  traces  of  Thy  hand 

Where  no  human  eye  is  present! 

Blessed  indeed  be  the  good  souls 

Who  see  in  each  cavern  and  hill, 

In  each  crucifix  on  the  road, 

In  every  street-corner  the  seal — 

However  unused  be  that  seal  — 

Of  Thy  truth  and  Thy  blessed  will! 

WTho  does  not  enjoy  each  honor 

Of  which  Thou  art  the  Soul  and  the  Aim? 

From  whose  eyes  do  swift  tears  not  flow 

In  praise,  Jesus  Christ,  to  Thy  name? 

Curses  on  him  who  withhold eth 

From  Christ  the  real  tribute  of  praise; 

Who  does  not  shout  the  glad  Amen, 

As  on  Christ  he  fixes  his  gaze; 

And  gladly  says,  "For  evermore, 

Let  every  soul  Christ's  name  adore!" 

Vol.  II.— 21 


LECTURE  XVL 


ZECHARIAH  WERNER.  —  ADAM  MÜLLER  AND  HALLER.  —  FRED- 
ERICK HURTER.  —  THE  NEW  FLIGHT  OF  PROTESTANTISM 
THROUGH  SCHLEIERMACHER.  —  HIS  MONOLOGUES  AND  DIS- 
COURSES ON  RELIGION. 

Though  in  the  last  lecture  we  by  no  means  attempted  to 
justify  the  apostasy  of  Stolberg  and  Frederick  Schlegel  to 
the  Roman  Catholic  church,  but  yet  to  account  for  the 
hazardous  position  in  which  the  Protestantism  of  the  eight- 
eenth and  nineteenth  centuries  had  partially  placed  itself; 
and  though  the  personality  of  those  two  men  was  still  pleasing 
in  a  high  degree  even  after  they  had  dissolved  their  union 
with  our  church,  the  apostasy  of  Zechariah  Werner,  on  the 
other  hand,  awakens  rather  feelings  of  pity  than  of  elevated 
sympathy  and  respect.  We  here  meet  with  a  man  who, 
though  endowed  with  great  talents,  was  ruined  by  Romanti- 
cism, or  rather  by  his  own  whims  mixed  up  with  Romanticism, 
and  even  by  his  moral  and  religious  fickleness.  It  must  at 
least  be  clear  to  every  one  that  his  apostasy  to  Catholicism 
was  nothing  else  than  a  spiritual  declaration  of  bankruptcy, 
the  clambering  up  of  a  shipwrecked  mariner  on  the  last  broken 
spar. 

We  have  placed  Werner  with  Frederick  Schlegel  as  one  of 
those  who  apostatized  to  the  Romish  church  from  a  Romantic 
and  poetical  interest,  and  from  a  predilection  for  the  forms 
of  the  Middle  Ages;  but  there  is  a  world-wide  difference 
between  the  two.  What  we  find  in  Schlegel  connected  with 
a  spiritual  direction  peculiar  to  him,  and  working  through 


Werner's  life,  and  passion  for  rousseau.  317 

the  pantheism  of  the  natural  philosophy  to  Christian  philos- 
ophy, we  see  in  Werner  gushing  more  through  an  obscure 
impulse  which  controlled  his  whole  life,  and  which  proves  that 
it  was  supported  at  the  same  time  by  that  immoderate  levity 
and  effeminate  sensuousness  and  exuberance  which  appear  so 
often  intimately  affiliated  with  common  Catholicism.  Werner, 
born  in  Königsberg  on  the  18th  of  November,  1768,  was 
acquainted  with  the  theatrical  world  from  his  earliest  youth 
as  his  own  world.1  His  father  was  the  theatrical  critic;  he 
died  early,  and  the  boy's  mother,  who  is  celebrated  as  a 
woman  of  spirit  and  imagination,  had  the  misfortune  to  be 
seriously  attacked  by  melancholy,  when  she  had  the  settled 
delusion  that  she  was  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  that  her  son  was 
the  Savior  of  the  world.  Werner  is  said  to  have  led  a  dis- 
sipated life  when  a  law-student  in  Königsberg,  and  also  to 
have  yielded  to  the  stream  of  the  current  ideas  of  skepticism 
and  tolerance.  He  poured  out  his  youthful  zeal  in  his  early 
poems  against  Superstition  and  Cant,  Intolerance,  Proselytism, 
Bigotry  and  Sectarianism,  and  Holy  Dumbness  and  Hypocrisy, 
— which  were  the  honorable  epithets  that  were  at  that  day 
frequently  applied  to  a  decided  confession  of  Christian  faith. 

Werner's  passionate  respect  for  Rousseau  went  so  far  that, 
instead  of  dating  the  year  from  the  first  of  January,  he  dated 
it  from  the  second  of  July,  the  day  of  the  great  philosopher's 
death!  His  life  abounds  in  adventure  and  marvel.  In  1793 
he  entered  the  Prussian  civil  service,  and  began  to  appear 
as  a  dramatic  writer.  His  Sons  of  the  Valley  betrayed  his 
propensity  to  Mysticism,  but  also  indicated  decided  talents. 
After  living  for  some  time  in  Warsaw,2  he  went  to  Berlin. 
At  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century  there  had  convened 
in  that  city,  which  had  been  the  center  of  Voltaire's  skepticism 
at  the  time  of  Frederick  the  Great,  those  men  who  gave  rise 
to  a  counter-tendency,  and  from  whom  a  new  spiritual  life 
commenced  to  spread  over  Germany.  This  seemed  very  sig- 
nificant to  Werner.   He  wrote  from  Königsberg  m  the  year 

1  "We  follow  the  Biographie  by  Hitzig.  Berlin,  1823.  Comp.  Dai 
litterarische  Conversationsblatt,  1827,  p.  2. 

2  Comp.  Goethe  to  Jacobi.   Briefw.,  p.  239. 


318 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


1801:  "God  has  valued  Berlin,  this  gathering-place  of  all 
dust  and  shallowness,  as  another  Bethlehem,  not  that  a  new 
light  might  arise  in  it  (for  it  arose  over  a  hundred  years 
ago),  but  that  it  might  concentrate  in  one  focus,  or  still  better, 
to  speak  ScripturaUy,  that  the  bushel  covering  it  might  be 
removed."  Among  these  heroes  of  faith  and  art  he  named 
particularly  Fichte,  Schleiermacher,  Schlegel,  and  Tieck. 

He  wras  especially  captivated  by  Schleiermacher's  Discourses 
on  Religion;  but,  after  his  fashion  of  confounding  everything, 
he  brought  them  into  intimate  connection  with  Jacob  Boehme, 
who  had  become  his  favorite  author.  He  also  valued  then 
very  highly  AYieland,  Bürger,  Hölty,  Ramler,  the  "  very  great 
Klopstock,"  and  Goethe.  Subsequently,  in  the  year  1804,  he 
wrote  of  Goethe:  "I  regard  him  as  the  first  German  poet, 
but  he  is  not  my  God."  But  he  confused  everything.  "Art  and 
religion,  the  living  sense  of  the  great  nearness  of  nature  and 
the  impartial  and  unpretending  outgushing  of  a  pure  soul  in 
this  pure  sea,"  were  the  salvation  on  which  he  built  his  hopes. 
He  already  confesses  that  he  cannot  make  much  of  personal 
immortality;  "but  I  would  like  to  bathe,  dissolve,  and  flow 
away  into  this  infinite  sea."  He  calls  religion,  love  and  ait 
the  Holy  Trinity,  and  then  writes  further:  "I  regard  Jesus 
Christ  as  the  only  highest  master  of  masonry;  masonry,  art 
and  religion  are  intimately  connected,  religion  being  the 
mother,  and  masonry  and  fine  arts  the  sisters.  Art  is  not  a 
plaything,  but  a  serious,  high-priestly  work,  and  the  artist 
is  a  high-priest  of  the  Eternal.  Egotism  is  the  Antichrist 
which  must  be  supplanted  by  religion,  art  and  masonry." 

Beside  this  obscure  and  confused  pantheism  there  was 
soon  stationed  its  twin  brother,  ideal  Catholicism,  which  soon 
passed  over  into  gross  superstition.  In  1802,  nine  years  be- 
fore his  formal  apostasy,  he  called  ideal  Catholicism,  which  we 
met  with  also  in  Novalis,  his  idol.  He  designated  Catholicism 
not  only  as  the  greatest  masterpiece  of  human  inventive  power, 
prefeiable  to  all  other  Christian  and  unchristian  forms  of 
religion,  but  openly  asserted  that,  to  prevent  all  European 
genius  and  taste  for  art  from  going  to  the  devil,  we  must 
return  to  pure  Catholicism.    He  regarded  himself  as  an 


Werner's  catholic  sympathies. 


319 


apostle  of  this  new  religion,  and  wished  that  it  might  have 
many  proselytes.  But  he  did  not  lose  all  faith  in  the  power 
inherent  in  the  Protestant  church.  He  believed  that  from 
these  fragments  the  true  temple  of  Catholicism  must  be  built. 
"There  is  still,"  he  says,  "a  Protestantism  which  is  in 
practice  what  art  is  in  theory,  and  which  I  respect  so  pro- 
foundly that  I  even  place  art  after  it,  just  as  I  would  place 
theory  after  practice."  At  first  he  had  just  as  high  an  opinion 
of  Luther  as  Frederick  Schlegel  had.  He  says:  "If,  as  I 
daily  pray,  God  would  still  awaken  a  Luther  for  us  before 
the  judgment-day,  the  man  would  certainly  not  have  anything 
to  do  sooner  than  to  protest,  in  his  own  somewhat  coarse 
way.  against  the  mongrel  of  Protestantism  substituted  for  true 
Protestantism."    And  here  he  may  have  been  right. 

It  is  in  this  light  that  we  now  see  how  Werner,  in  the 
year  1806,  at  a  time  when  he  indulged  Catholic  sympathies, 
could,  in  his  Consecration  of  Strength,  make  the  author  of  the 
Reformation  the  hero  of  a  drama.  And  as  we  look  at  that 
work  we  soon  see  how  much  Catholic  color  appears  under 
the  Protestant  varnish.  Iffland  had  the  play  produced  in 
Berlin,  but,  it  seems,  without  a  favorable  impression.  If  we 
may  judge  from  what  Zelter  wrote  on  it  to  Goethe,  many 
Protestants  were  offended  that  the  Reformation  should  be 
degraded  to  a  subject  of  mirthful  entertainment.  "It  is  not  a 
drama,"  Zelter  pronounces  on  the  piece,  "but  the  parody  of 
a  serious  and  holy  ecclesiastical  event,  which  would  make 
itself  perfectly  plain  by  becoming  profane;"1  and  Goethe 
seemed  to  unite  in  his  friend's  opinion.  When  the  play  was 
first  acted,  the  police  had  to  take  precautions  against  dis- 
turbance; subsequently  it  was  rendered  ridiculous  by  a  public 
procession  in  Berlin.2 

1  Briefwechsel,  Vol.  L  pp.  227  ff.,  238. 

2  "Some  officers  of  the  royal  police  had  a  sled  built  in  the  Summer 
(July),  with  covered  wheels,  and  drove  through  the  streets  of  the  city 
one  night  after  ten  o'clock,  with  many  torches  and  loud  hallooing. 
Dr.  Luther,  with  an  immense  flute  in  his  hand,  rode  in  the  sled,  and  his 
friend  Melanchthon  sat  opposite  to  him.  Catherine  von  Bora  was  on  the 
back  seat,  and  cracked  a  whip  as  the  sled  drove  through  the  streets; 


320 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


After  this,  Werner  traveled.  He  remained  some  time  in 
Paris.  In  Switzerland  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Madame 
dc  Stael,  A.  W.  Schlegel's  friend,  who  pronounces  in  her 
work  on  Germany  a  very  favorable  opinion  of  his  talents, 
and  even  places  him  beside  Schiller  and  Goethe.  Through 
the  suggestion  and  instrumentality  of  this  patron,  Werner 
undertook  a  journey  to  Italy  in  November,  1809.  This  jour- 
ney, and  his  long  stay  there,  were  decisive  for  him.  He 
relates  in  his  Journal,  that  at  Naples  he  attended  the  festival 
of  St.  Januarius,  in  May,  1810,  and  that  he  prayed  silently  to 
God  that  he  wrould  perform  a  miracle  for  his  sake;  that  he 
would  show  him,  by  the  flowing  of  the  blood  of  this  saint 
at  which  all  the  people  were  intently  looking,  that  the  Roman 
Catholic  faith  is  the  only  saving  one.  He  had  scarcely  offered 
this  prayer  before  the  priests  and  the  people  exclaimed: 
"  The  blood  is  flowing ! "  Lively  music  began  to  play,  and  all 
were  transported  with  ecstactic  joy,  Werner  among  the  rest. 
To  him  the  miracle  was  a  certainty,  and  nothing  could  after- 
ward lead  him  from  his  belief.1 

From  this  account,  as  well  as  from  other  passages  of  his 
Journal,  it  is  plain  that  Werner  had  secretly  taken  the  step 
which  he  afterward  took  publicly  in  Rome,  on  the  19th  of 
April,  1811.  Amid  the  varied  dissipation  into  which  Italian 
life  drew  him,  and  even  in  the  midst  of  the  most  sinful 
practices,  which  he  occasionally  lamented  but  never  seriously 
renounced,  we  see  the  fanatical  poet  heartily  taking  part  in  the 

she  wore  an  immense  trail  ten  yards  long.  The  nuns  of  the  Angustine 
Cloister,  led  by  their  prioress,  and  wearing  long  trails  and  misshapen 
masks,  rode  on  horseback,  and  held  torches  in  their  hands.  The  pro- 
cession thns  went  through  the  streets  a  number  of  hours,  to  the  delight 
of  the  eager  public.  Inland  was  so  offended  by  this  rough  sport  that  he 
personally  complained  to  the  king  against  the  mischief.  Consequently, 
one  of  the  officers  was  removed  from  Berlin,  and  the  remaining  ones 
were  arrested,  and  threatened  with  dismissal  if  they  repeated  the 
performance.1' 

1  Tagebuch,  pub.  by  Schütz,  Vol.  II.  p.  62.  (This  Journal  is  an 
abominable  sink  of  the  most  filthy  and  execrable  events  than  can  be 
raked  up  out  of  the  private  life  of  a  base  man,  of  poisoned  soul  and 
body.   No  one  can  read  it  without  disgust.) 


WERNER  AS  A  CATHOLIC  PREACHER. 


321 


Catholic  ceremonies,  confessing,  communing,  and  busying  him- 
self with  Catholic  theology.  He  studied  this  formally  in  Rome 
after  his  public  apostasy,  but  only  privately,  lest  he  might 
excite  attention.  Werner  did  not  succeed  in  seeing  the  pope 
in  Rome,  for  the  latter  was  at  that  time  held  as  a  captive 
by  the  French  Emperor.  But  this  privilege  was  well  supplied 
by  Werner's  visit  to  the  house  at  Loretto,  in  the  year  1813. 

In  the  midst  of  the  military  movements  going  on  at  that 
time,  he  returned  to  Germany,  where  he  was  received,  under 
the  protection  of  the  Archbishop  of  Dalberg,  in  the  Priests' 
Seminary  at  Aschaffenburg,  in  order  to  become  more  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  the  ritual  of  the  Catholic  service.  On  the 
16th  of  June,  1814,  in  the  forty-sixth  year  of  his  age,  he 
was  consecrated  a  priest  by  the  archbishop's  suffragan;  he 
then  went  to  Vienna,  where  he  appeared  as  a  preacher, 
particularly  in  Lent.  The  Congress  was  just  then  in  session, 
and  many  prominent  men  attended  his  church.  His  bombastic 
imagination,  which  often  bordered  on  madness,  and  of  which 
he  has  given  proofs  in  his  dramatic  poems,  now  shot  out 
its  sparks  in  the  pulpit,  and  attracted  many  curious  persons 
to  hear  him.  Varnhagen  von  Ense,  who  heard  him,  com- 
pares his  eloquence  to  that  of  Abraham  a  Santa  Clara.  He 
says,  that  "he  developed  his  grotesqueness  in  the  pulpit 
more  than  he  had  ever  done  in  the  drama  and  in  society. 
He  spoke  with  real  pleasure  of  his  personal  matters,  his  sin- 
fulness, his  conversion  and  repentance,  and,  making  hell  hot 
for  others,  he  indulged  his  vanity  in  the  double  view  of  his 
former  worldly  pleasure  and  present  election.  He  performed 
real  stage  tricks,  .  .  .  and  the  aristocratic  Viennese  and 
strangers  were  delighted  to  find  in  the  church  such  haut 
goat  and  sanctity  combined  with  so  much  that  tickled  the 
senses."1 

Thus  far  with  Varnhagen.  Werner  spent  the  greater  portion 
of  his  remaining  life  either  in  Vienna  or  in  other  parts  of 
Austria,  with  a  short  period  in  Russian  Poland.  He  did  not 
have  a  strictly  clerical  appointment,  but  remained  firm  until 
death  in  his  conviction  of  the  saving  efficacy  of  Catholicism. 

1  See  Denkwürdigkeiten,  Vol.  Y.  p.  104. 


322 


IIISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


"Only  one  thing  is  left  us,"  he  wrote  in  1817,  "and  that  is 
Jesus  Christ,  and  the  church  which  is  inseparable  from  him 
and  established  on  the  eternal  rock.  .  .  .  Verily,  if  God 
should  ever  take  from  me  his  gracious  light  by  making  me 
cease  to  be  a  Catholic,  I  would  a  thousand  times  sooner  go 
over  to  Judaism,  or  even  to  the  Brahmins  on  the  Ganges, 
but  never,  never  to  the  insipid,  shallow,  contradictory,  and 
empty  nullity  of  Protestantism." 

How  very  different  was  he  from  Frederick  Schlegel,  who, 
toward  the  end  of  his  life,  thought  of  again  joining  the  Prot- 
estant church,  and  who,  even  when  he  regarded  himself 
farthest  removed  from  it,  treated  it  with  great  consideration ! 
Besides,  Werner's  nature  was  low.  While  Frederick  ScMegel's 
apostasy  to  Romanism,  as  we  are  assured,  gave  his  life  a 
more  serious  support,  we  find  no  trace  of  this  in  Werners 
life.  Rather,  everything  here  runs  together,  fanatical  Catholi- 
cism and  extravagant  sensuality,  single  moments  of  repent- 
ance and  just  as  quick  and  frequent  relapses  into  his  old 
sinful  habits.  At  one  time  he  prays  thus:  "Oh,  let  me  gain 
souls,  and  only  make  good  again  what  I  have  lost  by  the 
abominable  scandal  produced  by  my  scribbling!"1  But  socn 
afterward  he  is  again  his  former  self,  and  though  he  subse- 
quently appeared  somewhat  more  honorable  as  a  priest  in 
Vienna,  he  yet  knew  quite  well  how  to  combine  the  dissolute 
life  of  that  city  with  his  religious  fancy.  It  is,  in  fact,  dread- 
ful to  look  in  upon  such  a  life.  Yet  Werner  himself  con- 
fesses that,  in  the  year  1802,  he  could  not  look  at  his  picture 
without  being  terrified  "at  the  enervated  features  of  a  poor 
distressed  man,  who  wras  weakened  by  all  kinds  of  suffering 
and  joy." 

Single  events  in  Werner's  life,  as  the  death  of  his  mother, 
had  aroused  him  momentarily  from  his  sinful  slumber  even 
before  his  so-called  conversion,  and  drew  from  him  tears  of 
repentance;  but  he  never  arrived  at  thorough  penitence.  He 
was  married  and  divorced  three  times  before  his  apostasy. 
He  tells  us  himself  of  the  misery  of  his  matrimonial  alliances. 
Of  his  second  marriage  he  writes:  "It  was  a  wretched  one, 

1  Tagebuch,  Vol.  II.  p.  167. 


Werner's  matrimonial  life,  and  death.  323 

without  love  or  hate."   His  third  wife  was  a  Polonese,  who  did 
not  know  a  word  of  German,  while  he  knew  no  more  of  her 
language.  After  taking  her  from  their  lonely  ahodc  in  Warsaw 
to  Berlin,  he  threw  himself  into  the  deep  stream  of  Berlin 
conviviality,  surrendered  himself  utterly  to  his  old  theatrical 
passion,  and  in  two  months  after  his  arrival  discarded  his 
wife.   And  yet  he  dared  to  write:  "I  am  not  a  wicked  man, 
but  only  a  weak  one  in  many  respects;  uneasy,  whimsical, 
avaricious,  and  impure,  .  .  .  always  busied  with  my  notions, 
employments,  comedies,  and  society.    She  is  innocent,  and  I 
—  perhaps!    But  I  cannot  help  being  what  I  am."  After 
this  confession  we  must  say,  that  Werner  had  long  been  ripe 
for  a  church  which  has  its  healing-plasters  for  all  sins  and 
injuries,  without  tracing  out  seriously,  like  the  evangelical 
church,  the  source  of  the  disease.    It  was  now  high  time  to 
write  the  Consecration  of  Weakness,  as  an  atonement  for 
the  Consecration  of  Strength.    He  now  had  to  call  his  own 
life  a  pest-hole,  which  should  be  covered  after  death  lest 
the  living  might  be  infected.    Werner  died  on  the  17th  of 
January,  1823,  provided  with  the  Catholic  sacraments  for  the 
dying.    In  accordance  with  his  wish,  he  was  buried  at  Engers- 
dorf,  in  the  mountains.    A  broken  lyre  was  seen  upon  his 
tombstone,  and  the  somewhat  inappropriate  reference  to  the 
words  of  our  Lord  to  the  adulteress  (Luke  vii.  47):  "Her 
sins,  which  are  many,  are  forgiven;  for  she  loved  much:  but 
to  whom  little  is  forgiven,  the  same  loveth  little." 

Werner  had  applied  in  his  will  a  certain  sum  for  mass 
for  the  rest  of  his  soul,  and,  as  a  sign  of  his  sincere  repent- 
ance, his  pen  should  be  laid  at  the  feet  of  the  Holy  Mother 
of  Gocl  at  Mariazell.  The  broken  lyre  upon  his  grave  is,  in 
fact,  an  eloquent  symbol  of  his  wrecked  poetic  life.  We  would 
not  doubt  the  honesty  of  his  heart,  to  which  he  always  appeals, 
although  it  was  such  as  was  of  little  aid,  as  he  himself  was 
at  last  compelled  to  confess,  and  therefore  it  scarcely  deserves 
the  name.  But  the  unhappy  man  seems  to  have  been  fully 
conscious  that  his  head  was  wrong  as  well  as  his  heart.  "If 
any  one  says  to  you,"  he  wrote  to  a  friend  in  1804,  and 
therefore  seven  years  before  his  apostasy,  "  that  Werner  was 


324 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


a  fool,  he  tells  the  truth ;  but  if  some  malignant  fellow- citizen 
writes  to  you  that  Werner  is  or  was  a  knave,  he  lies/1 

We  now  gladly  turn  away  from  a  character  which  placed 
itself  in  the  sad  alternative  of  folly  or  knavery,  and  we  will 
not  long  delay  with  the  other  apostates  from  Protestantism. 

According  to  my  remark  in  the  last  lecture,  there  is  still 
a  special  class  left  us  to  consider.  I  mean  those  who  aposta- 
tized through  political  sympathies,  believing  that  the  old 
aristocracy,  or  the  one-sided  conservatism  aud  stability,  were 
best  protected  by  Catholicism.  To  these  belong  Adam  Müller 
of  Berlin  and  our  fellow- citizen  Lewis  von  Haller,  the  former 
of  whom  was  an  adherent  of  the  Romantic  school  and  a 
friend  of  Frederick  Schlegel.1  As,  however,  the  great  political 
changes  produced  by  the  French  Revolution  have  not  yet 
been  mentioned,  we  could  not  consider  the  attempts  at  po- 
litical restoration,  and,  besides  this,  the  political  field  is 
foreign  to  our  plan.  The  religious  ideas  from  which  these 
political  restorations  proceeded  were  essentially  the  same  as 
in  Schlegel  and  Stolberg,  except  that  more  originality  was 
perceptible  in  Adam  Müller,  while  Haller  was  confined  to  such 
trivial  Catholic  politics  as  we  are  accustomed  to  down  to  the 
present  day.  We  would  also  attach  no  weight  to  the  fact 
that,  as  a  substitute  for  the  apostates,  some  literary  notability 
here  and  there  came  over  from  the  Romish  church  to  our 
own.  In  this  case  we  should  have  to  pay  attention  to  Ig- 
natius Fessler,  with  whom  Werner,  who  was  friendly  with 
him  for  some  time,  thought  that  he  stood  in  a  special 
spiritual  relation  because  of  Catholicism.  Fessler,  after  an 
"outwardly  unsettled  and  fragmentary"  life,  after  many  in- 
ward conflicts,  left  the  Capuchins,  then  the  Catholic  church 
itself,  then  created  great  attention  for  awhile  in  free-masonry, 

1  Frederick  Hurter,  former  Bishop  of  Scliaffhausen,  has  since  taken 
his  place  with  these.  Comp.  Schenkel,  Lie  confessionellen  Zerwürfnisse  in 
Schaffhausen  und  Friedr.  Hurler's  Unbertritt  zur  römisch-katholischen  Kirche 
(Basle,  1844),  and  Hurter's  own  work:  Geburt  und  Wiedergeburt.  (Schaff- 
hausen, 1846).  Gfrörer,  Florencourt  and  the  Countess  Ida  Hahn-Hahn 
followed  him;  and  how  many  are  still  found  either  half-way  or  all  the 
way  to  Rome! 


PROTESTANTISM  NEEDING  INVIGORATION.  325 

and,  finally,  as  a  Russian  Superintendent  and  as  a  friend  of 
the  Moravians,  exercised  on  the  Protestant  church  of  Russia 
an  influence  which  has  heen  diversely  estimated.1  But  we 
will  not  delay  longer  with  individuals,  who  can  only  prove  to 
us  what  vacillations  must  take  place  amid  the  uncertainty  and 
untenableness  of  the  prevailing  views. 

It  was  high  time  for  Protestantism  to  take  a  new  spiritual 
flight,  for  its  separated  energies  to  unite  into  one  power, 
and  for  this  still  existing  and  only  sundered  force  of  evan- 
gelical truth  to  come  again  to  consciousness.  Since  the  time 
of  Herder,  in  whom  Protestant  spiritual  life  appeared  vigorous, 
positive,  and  yet  liberal  and  clear,  we  have  seen  but  few 
distinguished  theologians  taking  part  in  the  great  train  of 
the  development  of  ideas.  We  do  not  mean  that  there  were 
no  discerning,  learned,  and  thinking  theologians,  no  eloquent 
preachers,  or  no  pious  and  faithful  pastors.  Though  they 
existed,  they  were  only  isolated  cases.  The  theological  pro- 
fessors in  the  universities  taught  their  science,  but  mostly 
without  a  vital  relation  to  the  church;  there  was  learned 
controversy  on  rational  and  revealed  faith,  but  only  little 
interest  was  taken  in  the  subject  by  the  general,  and  even  the 
cultivated,  public.  The  people  were  only  brought  into  a 
certain  degree  of  union  with  ecclesiastical  life  by  some  cele- 
brated pulpit- orators,  such  as  Reinhard,  Marezoll,  Ammon, 
Dräseke,  Hanstein  and  others:  but  the  philosophers  and  poets 
of  the  nation  paid  more  attention  to  the  daily  necessities  of 
the  mind  than  to  the  preachers,  who  were  only  heard  on  Sun- 
day. The  former  increasingly  acquired  controlling  influence  over 
public  thought,  and  for  this  reason  we  have  been  compelled 
to  dwell  longer  upon  them  than  upon  the  theologians. 

But  it  now  became  impossible  for  theology  to  be  kept 
longer  aloof  from  the  most  recent  culture.  In  philosophy  it 
dare  not  remain  stagnant  in  the  Kantian  period,  nor  look 
idly  at  the  great  flight  of  ideas  produced  by  Schelling's 
natural  philosophy,  by  Goethe's  philosophy  of  life,  and  by 
Romanticism ;  it  was  compelled  to  assume  toward  them  some 

1  "We  refer  to  his  attractive  Autobiography:  Rüchblicke  auf  eine 
siebzigjährige  Pilgerschaft  Berlin,  1824. 


326 


HISTORY  OP  THE  CHURCH. 


attitude,  either  hostile  or  friendly.  Though  it  might  be 
judiciously  antagonistic,  it  dare  not  rest  with  mere  opposition; 
it  was  required  to  examine  the  thoughts  of  its  opponent. 
What  Gervinus  had  said  of  Romanticism,  that  it  called  learned 
men  out  under  the  open  heavens,  applied  of  necessity  to  the 
theologians.1  They  dared  not  remain  any  longer  in  their 
rooms,  or  go  from  them  to  the  lecture-hall  and  pulpit,  and 
then  hasten  back  to  their  books  again;  they  had  to  go  out 
into  the  open  air,  where  God's  theologians  first  belonged  of 
right,  and  where  Herder  had  uttered  his  words  of  invocation  on 
the  ship.2  They  could  not  ask  any  longer,  even  though  with  a 
great  deal  of  learning,  whether  this  or  that  Scriptural  read- 
ing was  authentic,  or  this  or  that  interpretation  the  right  one. 
They  must,  indeed,  do  this  more  thoroughly  than  before ;  but 
they  had  to  look  from  the  Bible  into  the  heart,  though  not 
into  the  heart  as  they,  in  their  theological  manner,  con- 
structed it  theoretically  and  abstractly,  but  into  the  common 
heart — the  heart  of  the  times.  They  had  to  feel  the  pulse, 
and  to  know  clearly  and  definitely  what  the  times  desired, 
what  they  should  be,  and  how  their  wants  could  be  met. 

Every  one  who  compared  the  first  decades  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  with  the  last  ones  of  the  eighteenth,  if  he 
would  look  out  from  his  cell  into  life,  upon  the  wild  play  of 
angry  storms,  could  not  help  observing  that  the  merely  skeptical 
rage  was  passed,  that  even  in  the  extravagant  tendencies  an 
earnest  longing  for  what  was  positive,  spiritually  refreshing 
and  quickening,  came  to  light,  and  that  there  was  a  striving 
to  get  out  of  the  narrow  circles  in  which  thought  had  pre- 
viously ranged,  into  an  infinite  territory,  which  was  divined 
by  many  far  more  than  they  could  express  in  words  or  clearly 
conceive.  What  had  been  lauded  in  1770  and  1780  as  new, 
had  now  become  antiquated;  but  people  were  not  so  fully 
determined  on  what  to  substitute  for  it.  Yet  this  much  was 
agreed  upon:  the  great  necessity  of  not  a  mere  restoration, 
but  of  a  thoroughly  new  life,  a  creation  of  the  mind.  This 
new  creation  led  partly  back  again  to  remote  antiquity  and 
to  the  past  centuries;  and  even  the  Middle  Ages,  that  had 
1  See  Lecture  XIV.         8  See  Lecture  in.  pp.  42,  43. 


NEW  RELIGIOUS  AND   INTELLECTUAL  VIGOR.  327 

been  decried  by  illuminism,  had  to  contribute  their  share 
toward  strengthening  and  quickening  the  mind.  But  with  all 
this  use  of  antiquity  and  of  the  Middle  Ages,  people  still 
had  to  say,  that  "old  things  are  passed  away;  behold^  all 
things  are  become  new!"  A  believing  age  should  return,  and 
yet  it  must  not  be  just  exactly  the  old  orthodox  one,  how- 
ever much  the  latter  might  gain  friends  and  admirers.  Dead 
learning  should  rise  to  living  scientific  attainments,  and  one- 
sided illuminism  ascend  to  universal  culture.  The  Bible  should 
again  come  to  honor,  but  it  must  be  its  spirit  rather  than  the 
letter;  and  with  and  beside  it,  Homer,  Plato,  and  Shakespeare, 
each  in  his  own  way,  should  discharge  abundant  streams  of 
intellectual  refreshment.  The  universities  should  not  only  be 
great  rooms  for  study,  but  the  universal  places  for  the  dis- 
cipline of  youthful  vigor,  the  fold  of  a  moral  enthusiasm  for 
the  entire  life. 

Fichte  had  given  the  principal  impulse  to  this  movement. 
But  we  see  before  us  Schleiermacher,  who  stands  amid  the 
theologians  who  clearly  and  acutely  saw  this  mission  of  the 
new  age,  and  who  even  contributed  largely  by  their  science 
to  bring  forth  a  new  creation,  which  was  neither  like  the 
old  orthodoxy  nor  the  now  declining  Rationalism,  but  stood 
forth  against  them  as  a  new  power,  in  which  full  satisfaction 
should  be  dealt  to  faith  and  knowledge,  to  piety  of  heart 
and  education  of  the  mind,  to  what  was  ancient  and  to  wkit 
was  new.  Modern  history  represents  him  as  the  one  from 
whom  a  new  epoch  in  Protestant  theology  dates,  "  with  whom 
a  totally  new  theological  and  ecclesiastical  tendency  has 
energetically  commenced."1  Without  overlooking  the  services 
of  others  who  worked  simultaneously  with  him,  let  us  there- 
fore connect  with  him,  because  of  the  brief  time  now  allotted 
us,  what  remains  to  be  said  on  the  most  recent  development 
of  Protestantism.  Our  plan  shall  be  to  consider  at  present, 
in  connection  with  Schelling's  natural  philosophy  and  Roman- 
ticism, Schleiermacher  in  his  youthful  period,  when  he  was 
most  influenced  by  philosophy;  and,  in  the  following  lecture, 

1  Lücke,  in  Studien  und  Kritiken,  1834,  p.  751.  Comp,  also  Schwarz, 
Neueste  Theologie,  p.  24  ff.  New  Edition. 


328  HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 

speak  of  the  ecclesiastical  events  in  which  he  took  an  active 
part,  and  also  of  his  theological  system,  so  far  as  it  is  proper 
here  to  lay  the  cap-stone  from  which,  as  from  a  finished 
mound,  we  may  take  a  few  fugitive  views  of  the  movements 
of  the  present  day  going  on  below  us. 

While  we  have  elsewhere  regarded  the  Moravian  community 
established  by  Zinzendorf  as  a  conservative  and  accumulating 
society,1  this  opinion  will  be  justified  by  the  fact  that  many 
men  who  afterward  exerted  an  important  influence  upon  their 
times,  arose  from  its  bosom,  and  received  their  first  spiritual 
impulse  in  it.2 

Schleiermacher  was  born  in  Breslau  on  the  21st  of  Novem- 
ber, 1768,  and  acquired  his  earlier  education,  secular  and 
in  part  theological,  at  the  Moravian  institutions  of  Niesky 
and  Barby.  And  though  somewhat  later  he  left  the  Brother- 
hood, and  continued  his  studies  at  Halle  upon  a  different 
system,  still,  down  to  the  end  of  life,  he  never  ceased  to 
acknowledge  the  beneficial  influence  of  his  early  Moravian 
training.  "Piety,"  says  he,  "was  the  maternal  womb  in  whose 
holy  obscurity  my  young  life  was  nourished  and  prepared  for 
the  world  to  which  it  was  still  a  stranger;  in  it  my  spirit 
breathed  before  it  had  found  its  sphere  in  science  and  the 
experience  of  life."  While  chaplain  in  the  hospital  in  Berlin 
from  1796  to  1802,  Schleiermacher  became  intimate  with 
the  brothers  Schlegel  and  other  bold  spirits  of  the  Romantic 
school,  and  to  this  period,  in  which  his  Platonic  studies  fall, 
belong  his  two  early  works,  the  Discourses  concerning  Re- 
ligion, and  the  Monologues.  We  begin  with  the  latter  (1800), 
because  they  present  us  with  a  better  view  of  the  interior 
life  of  the  man  than  could  be  given  by  any  merely  outward 

1  Comp.  Vol.  I.  p.  437. 

2  In  Greiz  er' s  Protestantisches  Monatsblatt  (July,  1855)  we  find  new  and 
gratifying  information  on  Sehleiermacher's  relation  to  the  Moravian 
Brethren.  The  essay  gives  us  a  clear  view  of  the  history  of  the  religious 
development  of  this  great  theologian,  and  we  welcome  it  as  an  impor- 
tant contribution  "to  the  internal  history  of  German  Protestantism." 
Also  the  more  recent  Briefwechsel  zwischen  Schleiermacher  und  Gass 
(Berlin,  1852)  casts  much  light  on  the  great  turning-points  of  modern 
theology,  so  far  as  they  were  occasioned  by  Schleiermacher. 


SCHLEIERMACIIER  AND  GOETHE  IN  CONTRAST. 


329 


biography,  and  because  they  reveal  him  as  he  stood  before 
his  own  consciousness  and  that  of  his  contemporaries. 

While  Goethe  regards  self-scrutiny  and  self-observation  as 
morbid,  Schleiermacher  asserts  exactly  the  opposite,  and 
seems  to  have  Goethe  in  his  mind  when  he  says:  "Whoever 
knows  and  sees  only  the  outer  manifestations  of  the  spirit, 
instead  of  its  moving  inward  life;  whoever,  instead  of  con- 
templating himself,  does  nothing  but  gather  together  from 
far  and  near  an  image  of  his  outer  life  and  its  vicissitudes, 
must  ever  remain  a  slave  of  time  and  necessity,  and  what- 
ever he  thinks  and  devises  must  bear  their  stamp."1  From 
the  Monologues  of  Schleiermacher  a  spirit  breathes  upon  us 
like  to  that  of  Fichte.  To  get  possession  of  himself,  to  bear 
eternal  life  in  himself  even  in  this  world,  to  become  conscious 
of  his  Ego  as  something  indestructible,  was  the  goal  toward 
which  everything  tended.  "Begin  now,"  said  he,  "thine 
eternal  life  in  perpetual  self-inspection;  grieve  not  for  the 
future  and  for  that  which  is  passing  away;  but  be  careful 
not  to  lose  thyself,  but  weep  if  thou  art  borne  away  by  the 
stream  of  time  without  carrying  heaven  within  thee.  To  be 
a  man,  a  single  resolve  is  sufficient;  whoever  makes  it,  is 
a  man  forever;  whoever  ceases  to  be  a  man,  never  was 
one."2  Thus  with  proud  satisfaction  did  the  preacher  recall 
the  hour  in  which  he  had  found  the  consciousness  of  human- 
ity, not  by  means  of  a  system  of  philosophy,  but  through  the 
inner  revelation  of  one  luminous  moment,  by  his  own  act; 
and  he  assures  us  that  he  never  afterward  lost  himself. 

In  distinct  opposition  to  the  abstract,  generalizing  ethics 
which  regard  all  men  as  mere  mathematical  quantities,  as 
fragments  of  one  and  the  same  mass,  Schleiermacher  declared 
in  the  Monologues  that  every  man  must  develop  humanity  in 
his  own  way.  He  freely  confessed  that  the  vocation  of  the 
artist,  who  molds  the  outer  world  into  shapes  of  beauty  and 
rejoices  in  the  perfection  of  form,  was  something  quite  foreign 
to  him;  and  herein  we  again  see  him  distinctly  contrasted 
with  Goethe.    He  regarded  it  as  his  mission,  his  destiny,  not 

1  Monologen,  3rd  Ed.  p.  11.    Compare  beginning  of  2nd  Monologue. 

2  Idem,  pp.  23,  27. 


330 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


to  represent  an  outward  permanent  work,  but  to  labor  upon 
himself  within.  And  this  destiny  he  expected  to  work  out 
only  in  communion  with  others.  With  him,  however,  the  true 
communion  was  that  wherein  each  freely  allows  the  other  to 
act  according  to  his  own  peculiarities,  and  yet  each  com- 
pletes the  other,  so  that  altogether  they  may  exhibit  the  true 
picture  of  humanity.  A  strong  but  noble  self-reliance,  rising 
almost  to  a  prophecy  in  respect  to  his  own  future,  is  expressed 
in  these  striking  words  from  the  Monologues  (p.  115): 

"Unenfeebled  will  I  bring  my  spirit  down  to  life's  closing 
period;  never  shall  the  genial  courage  of  life  desert  me; 
what  gladdens  me  now  shall  gladden  me  ever;  my  imagination 
shall  continue  lively,  and  my  will  unbroken,  and  nothing  shall 
force  from  my  hand  the  magic  key  which  opens  the  mysteri- 
ous gates  of  the  upper  world,  and  the  fire  of  love  within 
me  shall  never  be  extinguished.  I  will  not  look  upon  the 
dreaded  weakness  of  age;  I  pledge  myself  to  supreme  con- 
tempt of  every  toil  which  does  not  concern  the  true  end  of 
my  existence,  and  I  vow  to  remain  forever  young.  .  .  . 
The  spirit  which  impels  man  forward  shall  never  fail  me,  and 
the  longing  which  is  never  satisfied  with  what  has  been,  but 
ever  goes  forth  to  meet  the  new,  shall  still  be  mine.  The 
glory  I  shall  seek  is  to  know  that  my  aim  is  infinite,  and 
yet  never  to  pause  in  my  course.  ...  I  shall  never  think 
myself  old  until  my  work  is  done,  and  that  work  will  not  be 
done  while  I  know  and  will  what  I  ought.  ...  To  the  end 
of  life  I  am  determined  to  grow  stronger  and  livelier  by  every 
act,  and  more  vital  through  every  self-improvement.  I  will 
wed  youth  to  age,  so  that  the  latter  may  be  filled  and  thor- 
oughly penetrated  with  inspiring  warmth.  .  .  .  Through 
self-study  man  raises  himself  to  a  position  which  despondency 
and  weakness  cannot  approach,  for  eternal  youth  and  joy 
sprout  from  the  consciousness  of  inward  freedom  and  its 
action.  So  much  I  have  accomplished,  and  shall  never  give 
it  up;  therefore  when  the  light  of  my  eyes  shall  fade,  and 
the  gray  hairs  shall  sprinkle  my  blond  locks,  my  spirit  shall 
still  smile.  No  event  shall  have  power  to  disturb  my  heart;  the 
pulse  of  my  inner  life  shall  remain  fresh  while  life  endures.1' 


sci-ileiermaciier's  discourses  on  religion.  331 

Schleiermacher  kept  his  word.  All  who  knew  him  in  his 
]atcr  years  will  recall  with  pleasure  the  impression  made  upon 
them  by  the  appearance  of  this  youthful  old  man.  And  yet 
whoever  will  be  at  the  pains  to  compare  this  language  of  the 
Monologues  with  the  author's  later  writings,  must  be  struck 
with  the  fact  that  the  moral  courage,  the  trust  in  his  own 
strength,  the  almost  reckless  moral  boldness  here  expressed, 
is  widely  different  from  the  meekness  of  that  "feeling  of  de- 
pendence" which  finally  became  the  root  of  Schleiermacher's 
theology.  He  felt  this  himself  in  after  years,  and  in  a  new 
edition  of  the  Monologues  declared  that  he  had  only  given 
an  ideal  of  the  nature  toward  which  he  strove,  and  that  the 
self-inspection  was  therefore  made  solely  from  the  ethical 
standpoint,  while  its  religious  element  did  not  appear.  He 
was  anxious,  on  account  of  the  one-sided  notion  of  his  own 
personality  produced  by  the  Monologues,  practically  to  counter- 
act them,  and  by  a  series  ot  religious  soliloquies  to  supply 
what  the  little  book  lacked;  but  he  never  did  it.  This  lack, 
however,  may  be  considered  as  measurably  supplied  by  his 
Di  courses  on  Religion,  which  appeared  in  1799,  one  year 
before  the  Monologues.  These  Discourses  on  Religion,  Ad- 
dressed to  the  Educated  among  its  Despisers,  were  a  highly 
important  phenomenon,  and  exerted  a  powerful  influence  upon 
their  times.  Not  only  such  men  as  Werner,  but  also  many 
younger  men,  to  whom  whatever  concerned  religion  had  be- 
come an  enigma,  found  themselves  elevated,  edified,  and 
brought  nearer  to  its  solution  by  these  Discourses.  To  under- 
stand this  here,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Monologues,  we  must 
transpose  ourselves  completely  to  the  time  of  writing;  for 
Schleiermacher  himself  remarks  in  1821,  in  issuing  the  third 
edition,  that  the  times  had  undergone  a  marked  change,  and 
that  the  persons  to  whom  the  Discourses  were  originally  ad- 
dressed were  no  longer  to  be  found.1 

1  "Rather,"  he  remarks,  "if  we  look  around  among  the  educated,  we 
find  it  necessary  to  write  discourses  for  bigots  and  slaves  of  the  letter, 
for  the  ignorant,  uncharitable,  persecuting  devotees  of  superstition  and 
credulity."  Thus  wrote  Schleiermacher  in  1821,  twenty-two  years  after 
their  first  publication.  Another  series  of  years  has  passed,  and  how  stands 
the  matter  now?  We  have  slaves  of  the  letter,  despisers,  and  what  not. 
Vol.  TL— 22 


332 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


It  is  needful  to  recall  the  fact  that  through  the  Kantian 
philosophy,  which  still  counted  its  disciples  among  the  educat- 
ed, religion  had  been  transformed  into  mere  morality,  and 
that  everything  relating  to  religious  exercise,  to  worship  and 
the  like,  had  come  to  be  regarded  as  a  mere  indemnity  for 
those  classes  of  people  who  are  not  able  to  bring  themselves 
up  to  pure  morality.  Still  the  attendance  of  the  educated 
classes  upon  divine  service  was  justified,  not,  however,  upon 
the  ground  of  necessity,  but  of  example.  This  contempt  for 
religion,  springing  as  it  did  mainly  from  an  entire  misunder- 
standing of  its  nature,  was  boldly  met  by  Schleiermacher  in 
Iiis  Discourses.  In  opposition  as  well  to  the  view  which 
makes  religion  merely  a  matter  of  knowledge, — whether  as  the 
dead  material  of  traditional  dogmas  or  as  an  interesting  sub- 
ject of  philosophical  discussion,  —  as  to  that  which  reduces  it 
to  a  mere  moral  discipline,  he  sought  to  elevate  it  again  to 
its  true  position,  to  restore  it  to  its  original  rights,  by  point- 
ing out  feeling  as  its  own  peculiar  sphere.  But  by  feeling 
he  understood,  not  that  fleeting  movement  of  sensible  ex- 
periences which  passes  away  as  quickly  as  it  arises,  and 
which  becomes  the  deceitful  play  of  the  humor  of  the  hour; 
not  that  fantastic  susceptibility  and  emotionality  which  he 
himself  so  earnestly  opposed :  but  the  innermost  germ  of  the 
man,  the  central,  focal  point  of  his  spiritual  life,  the  source 
and  root  of  all  our  thinking,  striving  and  acting,  the  most 
immediate  and  original  portion  of  our  inner  life.  Religion 
cannot  be  taught  and  imparted  from  without,  nor  communi- 
cated by  dogmas  or  sentences,  but  must  be  begotten  in  the 
mind  of  the  pious  as  an  original  sentiment,  as  something  ex- 
perienced and  lived,  and  must  make  itself  known  as  an  all- 
ruling  and  all- appropriating  power.  The  religious  man  is 
turned  in  to  the  innermost  deep  of  his  own  self;  and  every- 
thing outward,  so  far  as  it  makes  itself  known  as  distinct 
knowledge  or  action,  is  something  only  secondary  or  derived. 

In  these  fundamental  view's  concerning  the  nature  of  re- 
ligion, Schleiermacher  agrees  with  F.  H.  Jacobi,  who,  as  we 
know,  strives  to  free  divine  things  from  the  slavery  of  the 
dead  idea,  whether  of  the  theological  or  philosophical  schools, 


schleierm a cher's  views  on  religion.  333 

and  to  press  them  down  into  the  innermost  ground  of  the 
soul;  not,  indeed,  that  they  may  remain  there  as  if  buried  in 
holy  gloom  like  a  dead  treasure,  but  rather  that  out  of  this 
depth  they  may  come  forth  to  the  light  as  pure,  refined  gold, 
as  the  indestructible  heritage  of  our  nature,  dependent  on  no 
change  of  systems.  But  while  Jacobi  conceived  religion  more 
in  its  universality,  and  hesitated  to  describe  it  in  its  historical 
distinctness  as  essentially  Christian,  Schleiermacher  showed 
that  natural  religion,  so  called,  to  which  the  educated  classes 
of  that  period  were  especially  inclined,  was  a  mere  chimera, 
a  naked  abstraction  of  the  understanding,  and  that  religion 
never  works  efficaciously  upon  man  until  it  becomes  some- 
thing definite  and  positive.  Especially  did  he  bring  out  what 
Jacobi  had  overlooked,  namely,  the  social  element,  and  showed 
that  from  the  earliest  times,  individuals  who  had  been  pe-' 
culiarly  stirred  by  the  religious  life  had  always  worked  upon 
society,  and  as  religious  founders  had  gathered  associations 
about  them.  Without  even  naming  Christ,  except  as  one  of 
the  series  of  religious  founders ;  without  at  all  describing  the 
Christian,  among  other  historical  religions,  as  the  only  true 
religion  of  humanity,  he  still  taught  his  own  times  how  to 
get  away  from  the  loose  generalities  with  which  they  had  so 
long  been  occupied,  and  to  attain  to  something  distinctively 
Christian.  u  These  Discourses,"  as  a  later  theologian,  Lücke, 
has  truly  said,  "are  rather  a  defense  of  religion  in  general 
than  of  Christianity  in  particular;  they  were  uttered,  so  to 
speak,  in  the  outer  court  of  theology,  in  the  court  of  the 
Gentiles,"  and  yet  they  clearly  enough  contained  those  pe- 
culiar fundamental  principles  which  Schleiermacher  afterward 
carried  out  in  his  System  of  Doctrines. 

Still,  a  very  serious  charge  has  been  brought  from  various 
quarters  against  these  Discourses,  and  even  by  parties  from 
whom,  after  knowing  the  relation  between  Schleiermacher  and 
Jacobi,  we  should  not  have  expected  it ;  •  we  refer  to  that  of 
pantheism.1  And  it  is  true  that  the  Discourses  bear  this 

1  This  charge  comes  especially  from  the  side  of  Rationalism,  particu- 
larly from  Röhr.  Against  it,  compare  Karsten's  Examination  and 
Estimate  of  Dr.  Ruhr's  Article  on  Schleiermacher's  Discourses  on  Re- 


334 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


stamp  in  their  whole  tone  and  expression;  there  is  no  mis- 
taking it.  Neither  a  personal  God  nor  personal  immortality, 
as  Rationalism  would  have  them  held,  are  here  to  be  met 
with ;  on  the  contrary,  passages  enough  are  to  be  found  which 
remind  us  even  less  of  Jacobi  than  of  his  opponent  Schelling 
and  his  philosophy;  passages  in  which  the  All,  the  Universe, 
the  Absolute  take  the  place  of  a  known  and  named  God,  and 
in  which  the  reception  into  that  One  and  Universal  might 
appear  to  be  the  very  goal  of  all  our  wishes.  But  we  must 
here  again  recall  the  time  in  which  the  Discourses  were 
written,  and  the  persons  to  whom  they  were  addressed. 
Faith,  indeed,  existed  in  a  personal  God,  but  it  was  one  that 
worshipped  in  God  a  metaphysical  being,  separated  from  the 
world,  who  comes  into  no  communion  with  man,  who,  un- 
concerned about  the  world  and  men,  leads  a  life  of  simple 
self-complacency,  at  most  intending  at  some  future  time  to 
judge  the  world  which  he  had  been  at  the  pains  to  create. 
Against  this  cold  deistical  belief,  just  at  that  time  constituting 
the,  religion  of  those  claiming  to  be  the  educated  classes,  and 
still  lingering  in  the  heads  and  hearts  of  many,  Schleiermacher 
presented  the  living,  spiritual  presence  of  a  world-indwelling 
God,  ever  present  with  us,  uniting  and  allying  himself  with 
our  nature,  and  making  us  happy  by  his  abode  in  us. 

It  cannot  and  must  not  be  denied,  however,  that  our  author 
in  doing  this  approached  the  pantheistic  modes  of  expression, 
and  even  appropriated  them  further  than  was  needful  for  his 
own  purpose.  But  at  a  later  period  he  broke  away  from 
this  pantheistical  thinking,  and  testified  against  it  both  in 
distinct  declarations  and  in  his  whole  Christian  development. 
Indeed,  in  opposition  to  the  common  sort  of  these  "exclusive 
sticklers",  as  he  called  them,  who  only  hid  their  unbelief  in 
higher  truths  behind  their  pantheism;  in  opposition  to  the 
Romantic  poetasters  who  sported  with  religion  in  shallow 
poetry,  he  had  already  declared  in  the  Discourses,  that  when 
philosophers,  like  Spinoza,  should  become  religious  and  seek 
God,  and  artists,  like  Novalis,  should  become  pious  and  love 

ligion.  Röhr's  article  appeared  in  the  Kritische  Predigerbibliothek.  Rostock, 
1835.    See  also  the  polemical  papers  of  Hase. 


schleiermacher's  views  on  immortality.  335 

Christ,  then  and  only  then  should  dawn  upon  humanity 
the  resurrection  of  the  two  worlds  of  art  and  philosophy. 
In  respect  to  immortality,  Schleiermacher  indeed  admitted 
that  the  usual  method  of  treating  the  subject  did  not  accord 
with,  and  could  not  proceed  from,  the  true  nature  of  piety; 
that  in  many  persons  the  belief  in  immortality  appeared  to 
be  opposed  to  piety,  because  their  desire  to  be  immortal  had 
no  other  ground  than  a  repugnance  to  that  which  is  the 
ultimate  aim  of  religion,  because  they  attached  more  impor- 
tance to  their  future  existence  in  the  sharply  defined  outlines 
of  their  own  personality  than  to  God  and  a  godly  life.  For 
such,  he  supposes,  were  meant  the  words  of  our  Lord: 
"  Whosoever  shall  lose  his  life  for  my  sake  shall  find  it,"  and 
the  reverse.  The  more  they  long  for  an  immortality  of  which 
they  can  form  no  conception,  the  more  do  they  lose  of  that 
immortality  which  they  might  have  here.  Whoever  has 
learned  to  be  more  than  himself,  knows  well  that  but  little 
is  lost  in  losing  himself;  only  he  who  is  even  here  united 
with  God,  in  whose  soul,  even  here,  a  great  and  holy  longing 
has  arisen,  has  the  right  and  the  capacity  further  to  dis- 
course concerning  the  hope  which  death  gives  us,  and  con- 
cerning the  infinity  to  which  death  shall  infallibly  elevate  us. 

By  his  call  to  Halle,  in  1802,  as  Professor  of  Theology 
and  Philosophy,  and  his  appointment  in  the  newly  established 
University  at  Berlin  in  1810,1  Schleiermacher  became  more 
fully  devoted  to  theological  science,  and  in  this  more  definite 
sphere  of  labor  we  shall  meet  with  him  further  on. 

1  The  positions  he  occupied  are  as  follows:  1794,  Assistant  Preacher  in 
Landsberg  on  the  "Warthe;  1796 — 1802,  Preacher  at  the  Hospital  in 
Berlin;  1802,  Court  Preacher  in  Stolpe,  and  in  the  same  year  University 
Preacher  and  Professor  at  Halle.  In  1807  he  went  back  to  Berlin,  and, 
like  Fichte,  gave  lectures  before  the  general  public.  In  1809  he  became 
Preacher  at  Trinity  Church,  Berlin;  in  1810  Professor  at  that  place, 
and  in  1811  a  member  of  the  Academy.  It  is  very  significant  that,  in 
his  case,  the  clerical  office  was  ever  united  with  that  of  teacher,  and  the 
professor's  chair  was  divided  between  theology  and  philosophy. 


LECTURE  XVn. 


THE  NEW  PROTESTANT  THEOLOGY '.  SCHLEIERMA CHER  AND  DE 
WETTE. — THEIR  CONNECTION  WITH  MODERN  HISTORY  IN 
GENERAL,  PARTICULARLY  THAT  OF  GERMANY. —  THE  CEN- 
TENNIAL CELEBRATION  OF  THE  REFORMATION. — HARMS, 
AND  THE  CONTROVERSY  ON  HIS  THESES.  —  THE  UNION. — 
THE  CONTROVERSY  ON  THE  LITURGY,  AND  SCHLEIER- 
MACHER'S  SHARE  IN  IT. —  THE  LUTHERAN  REACTION. — 
STEFFENS.  —  SCHLEIERMACHER'S  SYSTEM  OF  DOCTRINE. — 
PARALLEL  BETWEEN  HERDER  AND  SCHLEIERMACHER. 

If  we  have  designated  Schleiermacher  as  the  man  from 
whom  a  new  epoch  in  Protestant  theology  is  to  be  dated,  we 
did  not  mean  to  intimate  that  it  was  in  the  power  of  any  one 
man,  however  gifted,  to  change  the  direction  of  the  times, 
and  to  fix  upon  them  the  exclusive  stamp  of  his  own  spirit, 
or  that  only  one  man  was  to  be  submitted  to  our  inspection. 
Schleiermacher  himself  would  have  been  the  first  to  refuse 
the  position  which  some  have  assigned  him  in  history,  for  he 
confesses  that  he  was  only  able  to  accomplish  anything  great 
in  connection  with  others.  And  in  fact  we  shall  find  that 
even  before  he  had  distinctly  presented  his  theological  think- 
ing in  its  complete  systematic  development,  another  spirit 
had  appeared  in  the  field.  About  this  time  we  meet  with  a 
tendency  which  goes  beyond  the  so-called  Rationalism  and 
Supernaturalism,  and  seeks  to  effect  a  reconciliation  of  the 
two.  This  reconciliation  was  very  distinct  from  that  theory, 
or  rather  that  mere  expedient,  which  takes  one  half  of  Ra- 
tionalism and  one  half  of  Supernaturalism,  and  outwardly  and 


RISE  OF  THE  ^ESTHETIC AL  THEOLOGICAL  TENDENCY.  337 

mechanically  uniting  them,  calls  the  product  rational  Super- 
naturalism.1 

Some,  like  the  venerable  Daub  of  Heidelberg,2  in  connection 
with  the  new  speculative  philosophy,  sought  to  pave  the  way 
for  a  theological  mode  of  thought  which  should  lay  bare  the 
very  foundations  of  doctrine;  others,  on  the  contrary,  sought 
in  the  path  of  psychology,  that  path  trodden  by  Kant  and 
Jacobi,  and  which  Fries  had  traveled  in  a  way  peculiarly 
his  own,  to  separate  that  which  in  matters  of  religion  pertains 
to  the  understanding  from  that  which  falls  within  the  sphere 
of  faith  and  presentiment, — powers  of  the  human  soul  which 
Kant  had  not  sufficiently  regarded,  and  which  have  their  rights 
as  well  as  the  understanding.  They  aimed  in  this  way  to 
rescue  the  mysteries  of  faith  from  rude  treatment,  to  point 
out  the  insufficiency  of  human  language,  and  to  bring  religious 
thinkers,  behind  the  symbolical  expression  to  have  a  presenti- 
ment of  a  higher  something  which  cannot  find  vent  in  words 
or  in  any  sensible  representation.  In  the  place  of  a  mode 
of  investigation  merely  logical  and  coldly  calculating,  one  was 
proposed  clearly  conscious  of  its  own  procedure,  and  marked 
by  a  kindliness  and  pious  inspiration  nearly  akin  to  that  with 
which  we  view  a  beautiful  work  of  art,  and  hence  called  the  - 
cesthetical. 

As  a  representative  of  this  tendency  we  name  De  Wette, 
a  man  who  was  destined  through  his  career  greatly  to  elevate 
the  intellectual  life  of  our  native  city  (Basle)  and  its  Univer- 
sity.   Growing  up  under  the  influence  of  German  (Saxon) 

1  Schleiermacher  makes  himself  quite  merry  at  the  expense  of  these 
theologians:  "For  my  part,  I  am  thoroughly  uncomfortable  when  I  hear 
the  ra  and  irra  and  super  whistling  about  rie,  for  it  always  seems  to 
me  that  this  terminology  grows  more  and  more  confused.  But  that  the 
concert  may  be  complete,  I  propose,  with  all  respect,  to  add  to  the 
irrational  and  rational  supernaturalism,  not  only  a  supernaturalistic 
rationalism  and  irrationalism,  but  also  a  naturalistic  and  unnaturalistic 
superrationalism,  and  when  this  offspring  of  the  earth  (for  they  may 
-  scarcely  claim  a  loftier  origin)  shall  stand  forth  fully  armed,  it  is  to 
be  hoped  that  the  old  passion  for  slaughtering  one  another  will  take 
possession  of  them." 
.2  Born  17G5,  at  Cassel;  at  one  time  Professor  at  Hanau. 


338 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Rationalism,  he  received  from  it  the  critical  tendency  which 
delights  in  analyzing  and  in  pulling  to  pieces.  So  earnest, 
indeed,  was  he  with  this  criticism,  that  he  could  not  content 
himself  with  the  half-way  process  of  the  Rationalists,  who,  like 
Paulus,  sought  by  skillful  interpretations  of  the  miracles  to 
adapt  the  Bible  to  the  culture  of  the  times,  or,  like  Röhr 
and  Wegscheidel',  weakened  its  dogmatic  contents  to  bring  it 
into  agreement  with  their  rationalistic  mode  of  thinking.  De 
Wette  looked  the  Bible,  which  he  so  aptly  and  faithfully 
translated,  squarely  in  the  face;  he  did  not  close  his  eyes  upon 
the  abyss  which  now  at  last  manifestly  yawned  between  the 
ancient  period  of  miracles  and  the  modern  age  of  reflection, 
lie  left  the  miracles  as  he  found  them,  but  when  he  could 
not  accept  them  as  miracles,  then,  according  to  the  analogies 
presented  in  the  history  of  other  religions,  he  admitted 
mythical  elements  into  the  sacred  history,  and  sought  to  secure 
these  against  profanation  by  transferring  them  from  the  region 
of  historic  and  prosaic  reality  to  that  of  poetry,  a  poetry 
which,  as  he  understood  it,  so  far  from  being  synonymous 
with  falsehood,  expressed  and  symbolized  the  very  loftiest 
ideal  truth.  And  while  he  scrutinized  the  individual  books 
of  Scripture,  or  portions  of  them,  as  to  their  genuineness  (in 
regard  to  the  authors  to  whom  they  are  ascribed,  or  the 
periods  of  time  to  which  they  are  assigned);  while  he  vent- 
ured many  a  bold  and  damaging  blow  against  the  outer  or- 
ganism of  the  Bible,  still,  for  the  interior  organism  of  the 
divine  idea  of  redemption  as  it  comes  to  light  in  Scripture, 
for  the  idea  of  religion,  running  through  the  whole  history 
of  revelation,  returning  again  and  again  under  the  most  varied 
forms  and  perfecting  itself  in  Christ,  and  for  the  power  of 
that  idea  in  the  souls  of  men,  he  showed  a  delicacy  of  sus- 
ceptibility far  greater  than  that  of  the  great  mass  of  Ration- 
alists, or  even  than  the  Supernaturalists,  who,  while  they 
anxiously  clung  to  the  letter  of  the  Bible,  showed  but  little 
comprehension  of  its  very  kernel,  of  the  controlling  principle 
of  its  revelation. 

And  it  was  De  Wette  who,  even  before  Schleiermacher's 
importance  to  theology  had  come  to  be  generally  acknowledged, 


SCHLEIERMACIIEK  AND  DE  WETTE. 


3:59 


pointed  out  the  necessity  of  regenerating  the  Church  by  means 
of  a  believing  theology,  transfused  with  religious  ideas  and 
inspired  by  holy  feeling;  and  he  well  knew  how  to  stimulate 
the  young  to  work  for  it.  With  De  Wette,  Christianity  did 
not  depend  on  a  doctrine  embraced  with  the  understanding; 
he  declared,  at  a  time  when  such  utterances  were  regarded 
as  the  evidence  of  a  suspicious  Pietism  and  Mysticism,  that 
to  yield  up  ourselves  believingly  to  the  single  personality 
standing  before  us  in  the  sacred  history,  is  the  one  thing 
essential,  and  that  the  living  Christ  must  form  the  very  center 
of  all  theology.  He  had  the  courage  as  well  of  a  confessor 
of  the  truth  as  of  an  unbiased  investigator  of  it,  and  though 
the  conscientious  investigation  which  he  regarded  as  his 
solemn  mission,  prevented  him  from  reaching  completed  re- 
sults as  quickly  as  those  who  were  bolder  and  less  exact, 
this  fact  must  increase  our  respect  for  his  opinions.  While 
Schleiermacher,  therefore,  in  his  philosophical  use  of  language, 
followed  in  part  the  natural  philosophy  of  Schelling,  De  Wette 
followed  another  philosophical  leader,  Fries,  who,  joining  him- 
self to  Kant  and  Jacobi,  sought  to  unite  the  critical  tendency 
of  the  former  with  the  faith  and  feeling  of  the  latter.  But 
Schleiermacher  and  De  Wette  agreed  and  outstripped  their 
age  in  this:  they  did  not  make  religion  chiefly  a  matter  of 
knowledge  and  of  the  understanding,  but  of  religious  feeling 
and  faith,  to  which  they  united  presentiment,  whose  long 
neglected  claim  they  vindicated.1 

1  We  insert  this  passage  on  De  Wette  in  the  present  edition  of  this 
work,  though  we  should  not  have  done  it  during  his  life-time,  owing 
to  our  relation  as  associate  professors.  Our  mere  allusion  here  has 
been  elaborated  in  an  Academical  Memorial  Sermon:  W.  31.  L.  De  Wette 
(Leipzig,  1850).  Comp.  Schenkel:  W.  M.  L.  De  Wette  und  die  Bedeutung 
seiner  Theologie  für  unsre  Zeit  (Schaffhausen,  1849);  and  Lücke:  W.  31. 
L.  De  Wette  (Hamburg,  1850).  Schwarz  has  only  done  justice  to  the 
critical  services  of  De  Wette  {Geschichte  der  neuesten  Theologie  ,  3rd  Ed., 
pp.  50 — 56).  By  no  means  would  we  declare  his  doctrinal  views  "de- 
funct." The  time  will  come  when  they  can  be  used  again.  Kahnis, 
with  some  harsh  words  on  De  Wette's  dualism,  yet  says:  "That  a  man  of 
such  negative  tendencies  had,  notwithstanding,  so  much  love  for  the 
historical  Christ,  and  such  a  warm  heart  for  the  past  history  of  the 


340 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Before  we  examine  the  modern  theology  in  its  connection 
generally,  we  must  do  what  we  have  perhaps  already  too  long 
delayed:  that  is,  cast  a  glance  at  the  development  of  Eu- 
ropean history,  or  at  least  at  that  of  the  political  history  of 
Germany.  It  must  be  but  a  glance,  for  its  thorough  treatment 
does  not  belong  here. 

All  the  revolutions  which  we  have  hitherto  seen  passing  in 
the  sphere  of  the  intellect,  whether  in  philosophy,  theology, 
literature,  or  education,  stand  in  striking  connection  with  the 
great  events  of  the  political  world.  The  French  Revolution, 
proceeding  from  a  principle  wholly  different  from  that  of  the 
German  Reformation  of  the  sixteenth  century,  had,  not  only 
in  France  but  also  in  Germany,  left  behind  the  traces  of  that 
desti  active  spirit  which  had  trampled  in  the  dust  whatever 
was  heavenly,  and  communicated  itself  in  a  great  measure  to 
public  opinion.  The  Napoleonic  period  immediately  succeeding 
had  indeed  thrown  up  a  dam  against  the  dissolving  and  de- 
stroying element,  but  of  what  sort?  An  iron  dam  of  force. 
The  ideas  of  the  Revolution,  so  far  as  they  stood  related  to 
morality  and  religion,  remained  substantially  the  same,  but 
their  further  development  or  check  depended  on  the  caprice 
of  the  conqueror.  Religion,  subsequently  as  previously,  ap- 
peared as  bit  and  bridle  for  the  people,  only  that  the  bridle 
which  had  been  wantonly  cast  away  was  now  again  buckled 
on.  It  is  well  known  that  Napoleon,  notwithstanding  the 
greatness  of  his  practical  understanding,  with  which,  as  with 
eyes  of  lightning,  he  looked  through  the  relations  of  life,  yet 
had  so  little  appreciation  of  the  might  and  magic  of  ideas 
that  he  berated  the  German  theologians  as  unpractical  heads, 
and  yet  he  could  not  free  himself  from  a  secret  fear  of  the 
power  of  their  ideas.  Indeed,  there  remained  for  the  poor 
Germans  during  the  period  of  oppression  nothing  but  to  flee 
to  the  realm  of  ideas,  and  to  strengthen  themselves  inwardly, 
while  outward  disfavor  prevented  activity.  Nothing  was  left 
them  but  to  temper  their  character  by  means  of  these  ideas, 

church,  is  a  significant  sign  of  the  change  of  the  times."  History  of 
German  Protestantism,  p.  236.  The  relation  of  his  theology  to  that  of 
Schleiermacher  is  well  described  in  this  work. 


DELIVERANCE  FROM  FRENCH  SUPREMACY. 


341 


while  the  sword  rested  in  its  scabbard.  Thus  was  it  with 
Fichte,  as  well  as  with  many  others.  This  German  patience 
has  been  despised  and  mocked  at,  but  it  should  rather  be 
regarded  as  an  heirloom  of  Luther,  who,  boldly  as  he  met 
the  day  of  decision,  knew  how  to  be  silent  before  God  and 
his  judgments. 

The  day  of  decision  came.  The  time  of  battle  arrived  in 
the  years  1813 — 1815,  the  period  of  deliverance.  In  the 
memorable  Winter  of  1812,  God  marked  for  the  proud  op- 
pressor his  limit,  and  said:  "Hitherto  shalt  thou  come,  but 
no  further;  and  here  shall  thy  proud  waves  be  stayed."  The 
German  people,  the  youth  of  the  land,  took  courage,  and  with 
their  eyes  directed  to  God,  that  he  would  not  forsake  them, 
the  iron  die  was  cast.  For  many  the  battle  thus  became  a 
religious,  a  holy  struggle  —  a  battle  between  the  time-honored 
German  faith,  morality  and  discipline  on  the  one  side,  and 
foreign  licentiousness  on  the  other.  So  at  least  the  men  re- 
garded it  who  then  called  the  German  people  to  arms,  such 
as  Arndt,  Max  Schenkendorf,  Fouque,  and  Theodore  Körner. 
Then  sang  Moritz  Arndt: 

"Who  is  a  man?  He  who  can  pray, 
And  trust  the  Lord  most  high; 
"When  earth  is  wrecked  he  trembles  not, 
His  trust  can  never  die. 

"Who  is  a  man?  He  who  believes, 

For  truth  and  freedom  burning; 
This  fortress  strong  no  human  throng 

Has  power  of  overturning. 

God  can  alone  protect  his  own, 

And  give  them  peace  and  conquest."  1 

This  was  the  watchword  and  battle-cry  of  both  the  manhood 
and  the  youth  of  Germany  in  that  period.  In  respect  to 
doctrines  and  ideas,  the  religious  excitement  was,  as  from 

1  Compare  Arndt:  Versuch  in  vergleichender  Vö'Ueergeschichte,  p.  409  ff. 
Leipzig,  1843.  This  period  of  universal  awakening  is  also  strikingly 
and  impressively  described  in  Steffens:  Was  ich  erlebte,  and  Perthes: 
Biographie  (Vol.  II.). 


342 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


the  pressure  of  circumstances  it  could  not  fail  to  be,  very 
indefinite.  Time  enough  had  been  consumed  with  unfruitful 
definitions  of  doctrine.  Now  the  great  want  was  that  faith 
should  reveal  itself  in  acts;  and  as  each  one  in  a  physical 
struggle  reaches  for  the  weapon  lying  nearest,  so  everybody 
now  seized  the  intellectual  weapon  which  he  best  knew  how 
to  use.  This  was  indeed  fortunate  for  the  period  of  early 
enthusiasm.  A  quiet  examination  of  the  religious  and  moral 
motives  of  each  individual,  an  analysis  of  the  elements  in  a 
moment  of  time,  was  not  to  be  thought  of;  for  this,  seasons 
of  agitation  are  not  appropriate.  Such  analysis  and  investiga- 
tion could  only  come  when  the  fermentation  had  ceased,  and 
the  elements  had  become  quiescent.  And  thus  the  gain  to 
religion  was  not  at  once  apparent;  indeed,  this  was  not  at 
first  inquired  for,  but  rather,  as  wras  reasonably  to  be  ex- 
pected, the  political  advantage,  which  the  nobler  spirits  hoped 
would  become  the  firm  foundation  of  a  moral  and  religious 
life. 

With  the  sense  of  German  power,  of  German  courage,  and 
German  unity,  were  bound  up  expectations  which  were  not 
realized  after  the  peace,  either  in  the  way  looked  for  or  so 
soon  as  had  been  hoped  by  many  who  had  called  the  people 
to  the  conflict.  When  the  outward  foe  had  been  conquered  — 
conquered,  indeed,  a  second  time  by  the  united  hosts  of  Eu- 
rope—  the  battle  immediately  became  a  domestic  one.  The 
relations  of  prince  and  people,  of  single  states  to  collective 
Germany,  wTere  at  once  elevated  into  vital  questions,  for  whose 
solution  men  did  not  feel  compelled  to  wait  on  tedious  dip- 
lomatic negotiations.  The  young  generation,  full  of  active 
life  and  devoted  to  liberty,  demanded,  not  without  violence, 
the  realization  of  their  ideal,  and  thus  drew  upon  themselves 
the  suspicion  of  demagogism.  It  thus  happened  that  the 
religious  interest  which  at  first  had  stirred  the  hearts  of  the 
people,  was  compelled  to  fall  back  in  the  rear  of  the  political; 
and  while  it  is  true  that  the  majority  of  European  princes,1 
in  the  first  feeling  of  gratitude  for  victory  over  their  enemy, 
at  the  suggestion  of  Russia,  in  1814,  formed  the  Holy  Alliance, 

1  With  the  exception  of  the  King  of  England,  the  Pope,  and  the  Sultan. 


RELIGIOUS  AND  POLITICAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  THE  TIMES.  343 

with  the  distinctly  expressed  design  of  "establishing  Chris- 
tianity, above  all  differences  of  creed,  as  the  supreme  law 
for  the  life  of  the  nations,"1  still  there  were  not  wanting 
those  who  looked  upon  this  same  Holy  Alliance  with  distrust, 
and  detected  behind  the  Christian  phrases  which  so  many  of 
the  great  were  now  using,  the  concealed  purpose  to  lead  the 
people  back  to  their  old  servitude  by  means  of  piety. 

The  political  liberalism  of  the  day  derided  the  good-natured 
enthusiasm  which  gave  attention  to  these  pious  utterances, 
and  was  only  too  much  inclined  to  confound  the  newly  awak- 
ened religious  life  and  the  reviving  Pietism  with  the  Cathol- 
icizing and  Jesuitical  tendencies,  which,  like  worms  in  the 
vernal  sun,  had  manifestly  begun  to  stir.  Such  Germans  as 
Voss,  Paulus  and  Krug  stood  at  the  head  of  this  party;  on 
the  other  side,  however,  were  many  of  the  gentler  spirits,  who 
looked  for  a  political  regeneration  to  proceed  from  a  spiritual, 
and,  themselves  buried  in  the  religious  views  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  built  upon  a  romantically  decorated  idea  of  the  German 
Empire,  and  even  sought  through  this  profounder,  though 
duskier,  religious  enthusiasm — through  the  power  of  Mysticism 
— to  work  with  holy  earnestness  upon  the  political  sentiment. 
Even  the  outward  appearance,  in  dress  and  in  the  growth  of 
the  hair,  was  to  remind  men  again  of  the  character  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  of  the  old  German  times ;  and  the  godly  Ger- 
man youth,  through  the  energy  and  fervor  of  their  souls,  were 
to  triumph  as  well  over  shallow  liberalism  as  over  heartless 
diplomacy.  It  is  well  known  that  this  spirit,  so  well  agreeing 
with  the  Romantic,  was  originally  dominant  among  the  students 
of  the  universities;  and  it  is  obvious  that  this  tendency,  where 
guiding  principles  are  lacking,  must  degenerate  into  a  danger- 
ous fanaticism,  and  of  this  fanaticism  the  unhappy  Sand  after- 
ward became  a  sad  victim. 

In  the  midst  of  these  religious  and  political  disturbances, 
in  1817,  came  the  festival  of  the  commemoration  of  the  Ref- 
ormation, whose   disclosures  most   strikingly  showed  how 

1  See  Hase's  Church  History,  §.  503.  Goethe  says  of  the  Holy  Alliance: 
"Nothing  greater,  nothing  better  for  hnmanity,  has  ever  been  devised." 
Gespräche  mit  Eckermann,  Vol.  I.  p.  277. 


344 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


different  were  the  standpoints  from  which  this  important  event 
in  the  history  of  the  world  was  regarded.  The  friends  of 
the  fatherland  saw  in  it  the  justice  of  demanding  for  the 
state  what  Luther  had  demanded  for  the  church.  Luther  and 
Hutten  became  symbols  of  energetic  German  manhood;  and 
the  Reformation,  of  decisive  resistance  to  spiritual  oppression 
and  violence.  From  this  standpoint,  pervaded  indeed  with 
religious  elements,  the  festival  at  the  Wartburg  was  cele- 
brated, to  which  the  youth  from  every  German  district  flocked 
in  great  numbers,  where  grand  recollections  were  awakened, 
high  resolutions  formed,  and  solemn  vows  made ;  but  at  the 
same  time  youthful  imprudences  were  perpetrated,  which  after- 
ward brought  the  innocent  into  painful  complications.1 

It  was  not  the  political  side  alone,  much  as  the  times 
might  emphasize  it,  that  was  to  be  comprehended  at  the 
festival  of  the  Reformation;  but  the  church  was  required 
from  her  own  standpoint  to  know  what  there  was  in  the 
Reformation  which  she  was  called  upon  to  honor.  But  even 
here  opinions  were  far  apart.  While  one  celebrated  the 
Reformation  only  as  the  forerunner  of  a  free  mode  of  thought, 
in  the  sense  of  Rationalism,2  as  the  feeble  beginning  of  that 
which  in  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries  had  attained 
its  completeness  in  illuminism  and  science,  this  was  opposed 
by  others  with  the  demand  to  return  to  the  old  doctrines  of 
Luther,  from  which  men  had,  alas!  too  widely  separated 
themselves  of  late.  Forward,  with  Luther  or  without  him, 
but  still  forward,  cried  the  one  party;  backward  to  Luther 
and  to  the  faith  of  the  fathers,  cried  the  other.   Among  the 

1  "Wherefore  should  I,"  says  Arndt,  "bring  back  the  recollections  of 
an  evil  period  now  past?  Both  were  wrong,  those  who  raised  the  ex- 
citement, and  those  who  commanded  quiet;  but  from  the  latter,  greater 
wisdom  and  patience  might  have  been  expected.  That  famous  chase 
after  demagogues  had  many  bad  results.  In  the  first  place,  the  disease, 
which  had  been  only  on  the  skin,  struck  down  into  the  nobler  parts, 
with  many  into  the  very  heart ;  and  follies,  or  innocent  youthful  ebulli- 
tions, became  evil  fancies,  with  some  indeed  criminal  plots;  but  secondly, 
the  worst  was  its  slow  secondary  operation."    Versuch,  etc.  p.  411. 

2  Thus  Wegscheider  dedicated  his  Dogmatics  to  the  shades  of  Luther. 


CLAUS  HARMS. 


345 


latter  appeared  a  man  who  claims  our  special  attention. 
Proceeding  from  the  lower  classes,  he  was  able  by  means  of 
a  powerful  personality,  and  a  bold,  picturesque  style  in  public 
discourse,  to  work  upon  the  people,  and  to  fill  them  with 
enthusiasm  for  the  ancient  faith. 

This  was  Claus  Harms,  Archdeacon  at  Kiel,1  the  son  of  a 
miller  and  born  in  1778,  at  South  Ditmarsch,  in  Holstein,  who, 
until  his  twelfth  year,  besides  a  thorough  catechetical  train- 
ing at  home,  had  only  enjoyed  the  advantage  of  a  village 
school,  and  had  been  taught  the  elements  of  Greek  and  Latin 
by  the  Rationalist  preacher  of  the  place.  Until  his  nineteenth 
year  he  assisted  his  father,  and  after  his  fathers  death,  his 
mother,  in  the  labors  of  the  mill.  At  that  age,  driven  by  an 
irrepressible  thirst  for  knowledge,  he  entered  the  Gymnasium 
at  Meldorf,  and  afterward  the  University  of  Kiel.  He  made 
rapid  progress,2  passed  his  examination  well,  and  after  spend- 
ing a  year  as  private  tutor,  and  ten  years  as  a  country  pastor, 
he  was  called  to  the  position  of  Archdeacon  at  Kiel  and 
Pastor  of  the  Church  of  St.  Nicholas  in  that  place. 

Harms,  in  his  manner  of  preaching,  had  already  departed 
from  the  beaten  track.  For  seventy  or  eighty  years  it  had 
been  esteemed  essential  to  good  pulpit  eloquence  to  preach 
in  an  argumentative,  symmetrical,  and  uniform  style,  and  to 
avoid  as  unfitting  everything  figurative,  nervous,  and  striking. 
It  had  been  especially  laid  down  that  a  definite  theme  should 
be  pursued,  according  to  a  plan  thoroughly  thought  out,  in 
the  strictly  logical  order  and  connection  of  its  parts,  of  which 
method  Zollikofer  and  Reinhard  had  successively  been  models. 
But  Harms  struck  out  on  another  and  opposite  course.  He  flung 
behind  him  the  shackles  of  the  schools ;  threw  himself  directly, 
with  all  life  and  feeling,  into  his  text,  and  spoke  from  it  in 
the  language  of  the  people  and  from  the  feeling  of  the  hour. 

1  See  his  Selbstbiographie  (Kiel,  1851);  Baumgarten:  Ein  Denkmal  für 
Claus  Harms  (Braunschweig,  1855);  and  Pelt,  in  Herzog's  Beal-Encycl. 

2  He  first  earnestly  studied  Kant's  philosophy,  but  afterward  received 
deep  religious  impressions  from  the  reading  of  Schleiermacher's  Dis- 
courses, and  started  in  a  path  which  soon  carried  him  beyond  Schleier- 
macher into  strict  ecclesiasticism  and  positive  orthodoxy. 


346 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Like  Luther,  he  watched  the  popular  mouth,  and  from  it 
caught  the  art  of  talking  with  the  people.  Hence  his  fond- 
ness for  proverbs  and  verses  of  hymns  familiar  to  the  people, 
to  which  he  hung  his  discourse,  not  even  despising  the  rhyme 
and  jingle  of  the  words.  And  he  employed  the  whole  broad 
creation  as  a  great  art- gallery  of  religious  symbols  and  life 
relationships.  He  delivered  sermons  on  nature  from  texts  on 
nature,  though  not  in  the  sense  of  the  earlier  sentimental 
preachers,  who  could  say  so  many  fine  things  about  the  rising 
and  the  setting  sun,  the  flowers  of  Spring,  and  the  starry 
heavens,  while  they  pushed  aside  Christ,  the  Apostles,  and 
the  whole  Gospel.  On  the  contrary,  to  him  all  nature  was 
but  a  prop  for  Christianity,  simply  the  outer  revealing  of 
what  must  be  wrought  in  us,  if  the  Divine  Spirit  shall  there 
create  a  spring,  and  the  Sun  of  righteousness  shall  call  into 
being  a  new  creation.  Herein  he  followed  the  example  of 
Him  whose  parables  appropriated  the  sower  and  the  various 
kinds  of  soil,  the  fig-tree,  the  lilies  of  the  field  and  the  fowls 
of  the  air,  and  of  whom  it  is  said:  "He  taught  them  as 
one  having  authority,  and  not  as  the  scribes." 

Indeed,  Harms' s  preaching  was  attended  with  great  power; 
of  this  his  Winter  and  Summer  Postils  give  sufficient  evidence, 
and  many  stories  are  told,  bordering  on  the  miraculous,  of 
the  effect  of  his  preaching  and  impressive  prayers.1  It  is  at 
least  certain  that  while  many  of  the  churches  of  that  day 
were  empty,  that  of  Harms  was  always  crowded;  many  of 
the  educated,  who  had  ceased  to  frequent  divine  service,  be- 
came his  hearers,  and  many  strangers  attended  his  ministry. 
Many  among  them  may  have  been  drawn  merely  by  the  origi- 

1  On  a  certain  occasion,  during  a  long  drought,  according  to  a  custom 
in  Holstein  he  prayed  for  rain.  None  of  those  present  expected  at  the 
time  of  starting  for  church  that  the  rain  would  come  so  soon,  and  all, 
even  Harms  himself,  were  greatly  surprised  when  the  large  drops  sud- 
denly smote  the  high  old  church  windows.  Deeply  moved  and  pale,  for 
a  few  seconds  he  was  silent,  appearing  to  listen,  and  then  with  a  voice 
suppressed,  but  continually  rising,  he  cried  out:  "Hearken,  my  beloved 
cougregation!  The  Lord  has  heard  you,  the  Lord  passes  over  you,  and 
his  feet  drip  with  blessings."  See  Rheinwald's  Repertorium.  Vol.  XXX.  p.  54. 


HARMS'S  NINETY-FIVE  THESES.  347 

nality  of  the  preacher,  but  others  no  doubt  found  the  spirit- 
ual food  for  which  they  had  long  been  hungering.  Some  even 
compared  him  with  Luther,  so  that,  encouraged  by  such 
opinions,  Harms  may  have  felt  himself  called  to  step  forth  as 
a  Reformer.  At  least  he  thought  that  the  best  way  for  him 
to  commemorate  the  Reformation  was  to  place  by  the  side 
of  the  ninety-five  Theses  which  Luther  nailed  to  the  door  of 
the  Castle  Church  in  Wittenberg,  ninety-five  others,  which  he 
regarded  as  fitting  for  the  times,  and  which  attacked  Ration- 
alism with  sturdy  words.  He  spoke  of  a  popery  of  reason,  from 
which  the  church  of  the  nineteenth  century  must  be  delivered, 
as  was  the  church  of  the  sixteenth  from  Romish  tyranny. 
He  laid  bare  many  ecclesiastical  defects,  with  which  he  had 
become  acquainted,  first  in  Holstein,  but  afterward  in  collective 
Germany,  and  in  the  Protestant  church  generally.  He  de- 
manded a  return  to  the  old  Lutheran  faith,  to  the  old  pious 
customs  of  the  fathers.  We  have  no  reason  to  suspect  that 
he  was  led  to  adopt  this  course  by  vanity,  or  by  a  desire  to 
make  for  himself  the  name  of  a  second  Luther;  we  doubt 
not  that  zeal  for  the  safety  of  the  church,  which  he  believed 
to  be  in  great  danger  from  Rationalism,  was  his  motive ;  still 
we  are  required  by  candor  to  confess,  that  the  manner  in 
which  his  zeal  found  vent  was  better  calculated  to  rouse  the 
feelings  than  to  make  truth  clear  to  the  understanding. 
Upon  many  it  could  only  make  the  impression  that  Harms 
condemned  the  use  as  well  as  the  abuse  of  reason  in  matters 
of  religion,  that  he  was  disposed  entirely  to  forget  the  history 
of  three  centuries,  and  violently  to  confine  the  spirit  of  the 
nineteenth  century  to  the  forms  of  the  sixteenth. 

The  Theses  made  at  all  events  a  great  stir;  they  produced 
joy  among  the  strictly  orthodox — who  had  long  kept  silence, 
and  sighed  under  the  rule  of  Rationalism — but  irritation  among 
the  friends  of  illuminism.  The  reproach  of  popery  was  thrown 
back  upon  the  author,  modesty  was  commended  to  him,  and 
he  was  reminded,  not  very  gently,  of  his  humble  orgin,1  which, 
it  was  said,  did  not  especially  qualify  him  to  pronounce  judg- 

1  "He  had  better  carry  his  sacks  to  mill,  as  he  used  to  do/' 
Vol.  II.— 23 


348 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


ment  upon  questions  which  men  more  learned  than  himself 
had  not  been  able  to  clear  up.  Many  called  him  a  blockhead, 
a  Jesuit,  even  a  hypocrite,  and  allowed  themselves  to  offer 
him  the  grossest  personal  insults.  Many  who  had  awarded 
him  a  high  position  as  a  preacher  were  offended,  and  deserted 
him;  others,  on  the  contrary,  were  attracted  to  him,  and 
cheered  him  on  in  the  way  in  which  he  had  begun.  The 
agitation  was  greatest  in  Holstein,  and  especially  in  Kiel. 
There  the  strife  between  the  parties  penetrated  the  very  relations 
of  social  and  domestic  life.  So  far  did  things  proceed,  that 
not  only  social  circles  were  dissolved  on  account  of  these 
Theses,  but  even  matrimonial  engagements  were  broken.1  Soon 
the  pens  of  the  learned  were  set  in  motion  for  and  against 
the  Theses.  The  most  remarkable  thing  was  that  the  learned 
Ammon,  Chief  Court  Preacher  at  Dresden,  hitherto  regarded 
rather  as  a  defender  of  Rationalism,  now  came  forward  as 
a  friend  of  these  Theses,  and  greeted  in  them  the  dawn  of 
a  new  and  better  era. 

This  was  too  much  for  Schleiermacher's  patience.  He  regard- 
ed Harms,  as  he  himself  assures  us,  as  a  well-disposed,  acute 
and  truly  Christian  man,  inspired  by  a  noble  zeal;  he  rejoiced 
in  his  wide-spread  and  beneficial  activity,  but  the  publication 
of  the  Theses  he  regarded  as  a  blunder,  or  rather  as  a  piece 
of  arrogance.  He  knew  the  condition  of  the  Protestant  church 
and  theology  too  well  to  be  persuaded  that  any  real  advantage- 
could  result  from  the  bold  utterrances  of  mere  authority. 
Schleiermacher  was  by  no  means  the  friend  of  bald,  vulgar 
Rationalism;  if  he  wras,  he  aided  in  overturning  it;  and  he 
who  was  so  far  in  advance  of  Harms  in  scientific  culture, 
could  not  fail  to  see  that  the  religious  and  ecclesiastical  wants 
of  the  nineteenth  century  were  different  from  those  of  a  former 
period.   And  he  could  only  be  the  more  offended  when  such 

1  The  children  in  the  streets,  playing  upon  his  name  (Harm,  in  Ger- 
man, meaning  grief),  sang  the  song: 

"Roses  scattered  in  the  way, 
And  your  grief  (Harms)  forgotten." 

Comp,  the  Evangelische  Kirchenzeitung  (Berlin,  1829),  No.  59,  p.  80  ff. 


KESULTS  OF  THE  DISCUSSION  ON  HARMS' S  THESES.  349 


men  as  Ammon,  who  were  farther  separated  from  the  old 
orthodoxy  than  himself,  gave  their  unconditional  assent  to 
the  Theses  of  Harms.  The  affair  brought  keen  definitions 
and  discussions,  and  did  not  end  without  bitterness.1  One 
result  of  this  battle  on  the  Theses  was,  that  a  livelier  interest 
arose  in  matters  of  ecclesiastical  life,  and  the  strife  between 
the  rationalistic  faith  and  that  of  the  Bible,  which  since  the 
time  of  Reinhard  had  been  mostly  an  affair  of  the  theological 
schools,  now  became  a  question  about  which,  in  the  interests 
of  their  own  salvation,  the  churches,  the  heads  of  families, 
and  individuals,  began  to  trouble  themselves.  It  now  became 
less  a  proof  of  weak-mindedness  than  it  had  been  for  ten  or 
twenty  years,  for  a  man  to  be  more  concerned  about  Christian 
affairs  than  the  news  of  the  day.  Conversation  began  to  turn 
more  than  formerly  upon  religion. 

The  outward  political  peace  was  favorable  to  attention  to 
religious  concerns,  and  the  after-throes  of  the  war  gave  many 
minds  a  more  serious  turn.  This  was  its  good  side,  but  there 
was  also  a  bad  one.  A  false  zeal  overcame  many,  and  harsh 
opinions  were  often  uttered  about  Christian  efforts  by  those 
who  were  devoid  of  all  proper  perception.2  Though  the  earlier 
fashion  had  been,  if  not  to  scoff  at  religion  in  society,  yet 
to  ignore  it,  many  now  sought  to  insinuate  themselves  hypo- 
critically into  the  favor  of  its  strong  friends,  and  men  who 
had  previously  been  very  highly  respected  on  account  of  their 
liberal  views  and  honesty,  now  had  to  put  up  with  being  set 
right,  often  in  the  most  abrupt  manner,  by  the  very  ones 
who  had  done  homage  to  them  as  disciples.  No  one  perceived 
this  rapid  change  in  the  impressions  of  the  day  more  thor- 

1  Comp.  Schleiermacher:  An  Herrn  Dr.  Ammon,  über  seine  Prüfung 
der  Harms'schen  Sätze  (Berlin,  1818),  and  other  controversial  publica- 
tions. 

2  Here,  too,  as  ever,  the  blind  followers  went  further  than  their  pre- 
decessors. Harms,  rough  as  he  was  in  general,  was  mild  in  his  judg- 
ment of  individuals.  "When  he  delivered  the  funeral  discourse  over  a 
very  lively  and  freethinkiug  student,  who  had  been  drowned  while  bath- 
ing, he  used  these  memorable  words:  "This  Moses,  who  has  reached  a 
better  world,  doubted  on  religion.  But  he  who  does  not  doubt  with 
reiigion  has  not  the  true  religion."    See  Rheinwald's  Bcpertorium,  p.  54. 


350 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


oughly  than  Schleiermacher,  who  himself  experienced  them, 
and  who  has  spoken  of  them  expressly  in  the  Preface  to  the 
second  edition  of  his  Discourses.  People,  in  returning  to 
what  was  old,  did  not  now  seem  to  be  able  to  do  enough. 
It  was  not  only  the  strictly  positive,  Biblical,  and  Christian 
which  was  emphatically  placed  in  opposition  to  the  so-called 
rational  theology;  but  there  was  a  determination  to  raise 
again  to  the  throne  rigid  Lutheranism,  in  all  its  concrete 
form,  with  all  its  temporary  characteristics,  with  its  coarse- 
ness and  peculiarities.  This  was  desired  particularly  by  Harms, 
and  very  soon  others  united  with  him,  though  with  still  greater 
emphasis.  Their  course  was  all  the  more  decided,  because 
just  now,  on  the  occasion  of  the  third  centennial  anniversary 
of  the  Reformation,  there  was  more  serious  talk  than  ever  of 
permanently  uniting,  after  three  centuries  of  lamentable  separa- 
tion, the  divided  Protestant  confessions,  the  Lutheran  and 
the  Reformed.  We  know  how  many  attempts  to  effect  this 
unity  had  been  made,  and  that  especially  the  Electoral  Princes 
of  Brandenburg  (subsequently  the  Kings  of  Prussia),  gave  a 
helping  hand  toward  it. 

King  Frederick  William  III.,  in  the  centennial  year  of  the 
Reformation  (on  the  2nd  of  May,  1817),  addressed  a  letter 
to  Bishop  Sack  and  Provost  Hanstein,  in  which  were  these 
words:  "I  expect  from  you  propositions  for  the  easiest  and 
most  appropriate  manner  of  uniting  the  two  slightly  divergent 
confessions." 1  Many  thought  this  reunion  altogether  too  light 
a  matter.  The  wounds  seemed  to  them  united  and  healed  over 
of  themselves.  Though  the  rationalistic  period  was  still  in 
progress,  few  Lutherans  believed  firmly  in  a  corporeal  presence 
of  Christ  in  the  Lord's  Supper,  and  few  of  the  Reformed  still 
adhered  consistently  to  the  doctrine  of  unconditional  election. 
Now  if  one  body  would  surrender  the  first  point,  and  the 
other  the  second,  the  union  could  be  very  easily  effected. 
But  it  is  plain  that  a  union  which  merely  cancels  differences, 
and  destroys  one  zero  by  another,  is  neither  real  nor  satis- 
factory. The  more  rigid  minds  could  not  conscientiously  con- 
sent to  part  with  the  confession  of  their  church  at  such  an 

1  See  Hanstein's  Denkmal.   Berlin,  1821.  p.  103. 


UNION  OF  THE  LUTHERAN  AND  REFORMED  CONFESSIONS.  351 

easy  price,  in  order,  finally,  to  let  everything  subside  into  the 
loosest  indifference.  Rather,  there  was  ground  for  expecting 
that  if  a  union  of  the  confessions  could  once  be  effected,  the 
recollection  of  the  antitheses,  which  had  been  hitherto  kept 
in  the  background,  would  immediately  reäppear  with  renewed 
power;  indeed,  even  the  same  peace-makers  who  were  called 
to  give  their  aid  to  the  union,  such  as  Schleiermacher,  started 
the  discussion  of  these  differences.  Schleiermacher  was  the 
very  first  Reformed  theologian,  after  a  long  period,  who  de- 
fended acutely  the  doctrine  of  election.1 

It  was  only  after  many  dilatory  negotiations  that  the  union 
was  even  outwardly  effected.  It  took  place  in  Prussia  in 
1821,  and  almost  simultaneously  in  the  grand-duchy  of  Baden, 
in  Nassau,  Rhenish  Bavaria,  Anhalt-Bernburg,  Hesse,  and  Wiir- 
temberg;  and  in  most  places  it  was  brought  to  pass  with  the 
most  careful  respect  for  conscientious  convictions,  and  even 
with  the  toleration  of  those  who  would  not  unite.  And  yet 
it  was  impossible  to  adjust  everything.  To  Prussia  there  now 
came  a  new  stone  of  offence.  In  order  to  give  to  the  united 
churches  a  common  liturgy,  in  accordance  with  the  necessities 
of  the  new  period,  the  King  of  Prussia  had  a  liturgy  prepared 
by  a  committee,  in  which  the  outward  Lutheran  ceremonies 
appeared  sharply,  but  in  which  it  was  impossible  that  the 
Reformed,  who  had  not  previously  been  accustomed  to  such 
things,  should  feel  satisfied  unless  the  Lutherans,  from  whom 
there  was  also  something  taken,  should  declare  themselves 
perfectly  contented  with  the  proposed  substitute. 

The  king  first  introduced  the  new  liturgy  only  into  the 
court  and  garrison  chapels,  but  recommended  it  to  all  the 
congregations  in  the  country.  But  it  met  with  much  opposi- 
tion. The  adherents  of  the  early  theology  of  illuminism  found 
it  too  orthodox,  too  much  in  sympathy  with  the  old  ecclesi- 
asticism;  they  did  not  perceive  in  it  their  own  theological 
opinions,  but  just  the  reverse;  and  it  was  from  their  stand- 

1  "With  his  essay:  The  Doctrine  of  Election,  he  commenced  the  Theolog- 
ische Zeitschrift,  which  he  published  in  1819  and  the  following  years,  in 
connection  with  De  Wette  and  Lücke,  and  which  became  an  organ  of 
the  new  theology,  that  strove  to  get  beyond  the  old  points  of  opposition. 


352 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


point  that  they  very  properly  hesitated  to  make  use  of  ex- 
pressions and  ceremonies  with  which  they  could  connect  no 
other  sense  than  one  contradictory  to  their  convictions.  To 
the  Reformed  people  the  burning  of  candles  in  broad  day- 
light, and  the  kneeling  and  singing  of  the  preacher  before 
the  altar,  and  the  like,  seemed  utterly  Catholic;  and  on  the 
other  hand,  the  liturgy  seemed  to  the  rigid  Lutherans  too 
concessive  to  the  Reformed,  and  too  indefinite  and  flexible. 
There  were  also  those  who  brought  over  their  political  ill- 
humor  into  this  department,  and  charged  the  king  with  arro- 
gating supremacy  over  the  conscience,  so  as  more  easily  to 
gain  other  ends.  The  controversy  now  became  legal,  and  the 
jurists  and  theologians  pronounced  their  different  opinions  in 
answering  the  question  as  to  how  far  the  king,  as  the  prince 
of  the  country,  was  authorized  in  prescribing  his  ecclesiastical 
usages  to  the  people,  and  in  foisting  a  particular  service  upon 
them. 

And  in  this  controversy  Schleiermacher  also  gave  his  voice 
in  favor  of  freedom  of  conscience.1  It  was  only  after  new 
negotiations  and  revisions,  in  which  all  possible  consideration 
was  shown  for  personal  wishes  and  the  traditions  of  the 
country,  that  the  liturgy  entered  into  full  force  with  the  year 
1830,  as  that  of  the  United  Evangelical  State  Church. 

But  yet  the  opposition  to  the  union  had  a  public  outbreak. 
Who  would  have  believed  that,  after  the  times  when  it  was 
thought  that  everything  positive  had  been  removed,  and  when 
particularly  the  old  ecclesiastical  controversies  were  supposed 
to  be  far  in  the  background,  these  controversies  should  again 
violently  obtrude  themselves,  and  not  on  the  part  of  the  un- 
enlightened masses,  but  of  the  most  cultivated  people  in  the 
nation.  We  find  at  the  head  of  this  excitement  not  only 
professional  theologians  (chiefly  Dr.  Scheibel  of  Breslau, 
Guericke,  and  others),  whom  it  might  be  thought  that  the 
spirit  of  learned  controversy  had  seduced  to  extreme  meas- 
ures ;  but  men  of  intellect  and  spirit,  of  the  most  liberal  and 
frank  sentiments,  such  as  the  genial  Steffens,  now  threw  them- 

1  Das  liturgische  Recht  des  evang.  Landesfür  sten,  by  Pacificus  Sincerus 
(Göttingen,  1824),  and  a  number  of  other  works. 


STEFFENS  A  TYPE  OF  HIS  TIMES. 


353 


selves  in  the  front  rank  of  old  Lutheranism.  Steffens  himself, 
in  his  work  entitled  How  I  Became  a  Lutheran  and  What 
Lutheranism  is  to  Me,  gives  us  the  best  disclosure  of  his 
own  feelings.1  Even  this  vigorous  son  of  the  North  was  per- 
vaded by  the  great  conflict  of  the  times,  and  had  again  been 
led  from  the  plane  of  common  illuminism  to  the  heights  and 
depths  of  a  world  of  faith  lying  far  beyond  the  comprehension 
of  the  understanding.  He  had  applied  himself  to  positive 
Christian  faith  with  all  the  power  of  his  mind,  and  this  was 
to  him,  after  the  experience  through  which  he  passed,  no 
other  than  the  faith  which  he  had  become  acquainted  with, 
when  a  boy,  in  his  catechism, — the  Lutheran  faith,  with  its 
characteristic  definitions  and  rites.  He  assures  us  himself, 
that  after  he  had  again  found  the  standpoint  of  Christianity, 
not  merely  by  perception  but  by  hearty  attainment  of  it, 
Luther  appeared  to  him  in  his  true  importance,  as  the  mighty 
one  who  was  called  forth  to  give  a  new  form  to  all  the 
directions  of  history,  not  simply  because  he  opposed  the 
hierarchy,  but  because  he  delivered  Christianity  from  the  dom- 
ination of  the  merely  reflective  understanding. 

Steffens  sees  in  the  inward  fellowship  of  the  life  of  be- 
lievers with  Christ,  as  a  fact  which  cannot  be  dissipated  into 
a  merely  typical  figure  of  speech,  the  real  nature  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  therefore  he  calls  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's 
Supper,  in  which  this  natural  union  is  not  only  represented 
but  realized  as  such,  the  highest  individualizing  process  of 
Christianity.  "By  it,"  he  says,  "the  whole  mystery  of  re- 
demption sinks,  in  all  its  rich  fullness,  into  the  receptive  in- 
dividual. The  fruitful  stream  of  grace,  which  since  those 
days  of  its  great  regeneration,  courses  through  all  nature 
and  history,  and  matures  for  a  blessed  future,  assumes  the 
form  of  the  Savior,  in  order  that  he  who  is  all  in  all  may 
be  solely  for  it.  .  .  .  That  which  the  Christian  believes, 
which  pervades  his  whole  life,  and  conquers  death,  becomes 
.  .  .  certainty,  enjoyment,  and  nourishment  by  the  saving 

1  Breslau,  1831.  Comp,  also  his  work:  Von  der  falschen  Theologie  und 
dem  wahren  Glauben,  1823;  and  various  passages  in  his  Autobiography : 
Was  ich  erlebte. 


354 


HISTORY  OF   THE  CHURCH. 


presence  of  the  Savior  (in  the  Lord's  Supper).  Only  he  who 
knows  the  nature  of  love  (and  only  he  knows  it  who  has  ex- 
perienced it)  can  comprehend  its  inward  character.  Every- 
thing which  we  think  and  wish,  every  germinating  idea  of 
the  spirit,  everything  grand  and  glorious  that  we  behold  and 
enjoy, — those  traces  of  the  original  form  which  lay  concealed 
in  their  earthly  form,  and  were  distorted,  fettered,  and  im- 
prisoned by  the  disordered  life, — now  pervade  soul  and  body 
for  a  higher  spiritual  bond,  and  meet  the  present  Savior. 
All  that  he  has  been  and  will  be  to  the  world,  all  that  he  taught 
and  suffered,  take  form  in  us,  that  we  may  become  inward; 
his  words  are  himself — they  are  spirit  and  life.  I  am  not  a 
theologian;  but  religion,  as  it  is  to  me  higher  than  everything 
earthly,  is  to  me  the  subject  of  profound  reflection,  and  what 
I  strove  to  make  clear  to  myself  in  this  manner,  has  become 
the  fundamental  view  of  my  faith.  The  Lord's  Supper  is  to 
me  the  highest,  most  weighty,  and  most  mysterious  of  all 
religious  transactions;  yea,  it  seems  so  important  to  me  that 
it  gives  the  most  unfathomable  meaning  to  all  doctrine." 

We  cannot  here  examine  more  closely  this  fundamental 
religious  view  of  Steffens  himself,  nor  ask  whether  this  deep 
meaning  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  as  Steffens  beautifully  and 
strikingly  explains  it,  can  coincide  with  the  correct  view  of 
the  Reformed  doctrine  (Steffens  himself  calls  the  assertion  of 
the  opposite  uncharitable);  but  I  only  hope  that  it  has  be- 
come clear  to  us,  from  this  confession  of  the  clever  man, 
that  his  attachment  to  Lutheranism  had  other  grounds  than 
blind  prejudice.  As  we  have  seen  in  Stolberg  and  Frederick 
Schlegel  that  highly  intellectual  and  thoughtful  men  can 
apostatize  to  Catholicism,  because  the  center  of  gravity  of 
religious  life  appeared  to  them  to  lie  there,  so  can  we  now 
very  easily  comprehend  howr  Steffens,  notwithstanding  all  his 
philosophy  and  extensive  knowledge  of  nature,  could  be  an 
orthodox  Lutheran. 

Moreover,  we  shall  as  little  mistake  the  influence  of  Schelling's 
natural  philosophy  and  of  Romanticism  here  as  in  the  case 
of  Novalis  or  Schlegel.  Such  phenomena  have,  indeed,  always 
been  foolishness  and  an  offence  to  the  common  understanding, 


ANGRY  CONTROVERSY  ON  THE  UNION.  355 

which  allows  itself  to  be  carried  off  by  every  current  of 
opinion,  and  thinks  itself  very  shrewd  if,  in  its  embarrassment, 
which  often  amounts  to  rashness,  it  can  take  refuge  in  hypoc- 
risy, and  express  the  presumption  that  the  people  concerned 
are  not  in  earnest  in  their  opinions ;  or,  in  the  most  favorable 
instance,  it  ascribes  it  to  a  settled  idea,  to  which  even  dis- 
creet people  are  sometimes  subject.  We  do  not  envy  the 
understanding  of  these  people,  who  allow  themselves  to  be 
contented  by  this  means.  But  we  believe  that  in  the  depart- 
ment of  religious  conviction  there  are  mountains,  beyond  which 
it  is  not  so  easy  to  get,  and  of  which  those  have  no  antic- 
ipation who  are  continually  accustomed  to  walk  along  the 
plain,  and  see  only  flat  land  before  them.  We  confess  that 
to  us  such  a  powerful  conviction,  on  which  all  the  so-called 
rational  reasons  break  as  the  waves  of  the  sea  against  the 
jagged  rocks,  is  such  a  mountain,  in  Luther  as  well  as  in 
Steffens,  and  though  we  cannot  very  easily  get  away  from  it, 
let  us  allow  it,  in  God's  name,  to  stand  undisturbed,  and  con- 
fess that  it  is  too  high  for  us.  We  honor  conviction,  even 
when  intrenched  behind  this  mountain,  and  we  then  under- 
stand all  the  sooner  how  others,  who  look  at  such  examples, 
must  find  themselves  strengthened  in  their  opinions,  and  even 
in  their  prejudices. 

While,  therefore,  we  can  only  lament  that  the  well-meant 
attempts  at  union  were  wrecked  upon  such  strong  convictions, 
let  us  guard  against  enforcing  history  according  to  our  own 
notion,  and  leveling  all  the  mountains.  History  often  takes 
quite  a  different  course  from  what  wre  expected.  It  was  so 
in  the  present  case.  All  inquiring  and  wondering  that  such 
an  affair  could  happen  in  the  nineteenth  century,  is  only  a 
hamiliation  of  the  human  understanding,  whose  calculations 
in  both  nature  and  history  often  miscarry.  No  one  will  deny 
that  many  human  elements  were  mixed  up  in  this  controversy, 
which  the  old  Lutherans  conducted  and  still  conduct  against 
the  Union,  and  that  carnal  zeal  here  had  free  scope;  and 
the  hearts  of  us  Reformed  must  bleed  when  we  learn  that 
many  of  those  whom  we  love  and  recognize  as  our  evangelical 
brethren  in  faith,  still  regard  us  unworthy  of  their  communion. 


356 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH 


But  nothing  can  be  forced  here.1  And  there  was  a  failure 
in  just  this  wish  to  force  matters  which  should  have  been  left, 
more  than  has  been  the  case,  to  personal  conviction  and 
gradual  historical  development  Thus  the  Union  even  became 
a  signal  for  further  disturbances,  which  are  quite  fresh  in 
our  memory,  and  which,  especially  in  Silesia,  assumed  an 
alarming  form.  The  refractoriness  and  fanaticism  of  the  old 
Lutherans  called  forth  counter-movements  on  the  part  .of  the 
government.  Removals,  military  force  and  emigration  were 
the  sad  results,  and,  finally,  there  occurred  a  disunion  among 
the  rigid  Lutherans  themselves,  some  (and  Steffens  among 
the  number)  yielding  to  the  force  of  circumstances,  others 
pushing  their  cause  to  the  utmost,  and  still  others  going  to 
ruin  in  sectarianism. 

We  now  return  to  Schleiermacher.  Though  he  everywhere 
influenced  the  most  important  ecclesiastical  events,  it  was  he 
also  who,  in  his  twofold  position  of  learned  theologian  and 
preacher,  wrought  so  instructively,  edifyingly  and  decisively 
upon  the  religious  conviction.  His  System  of  Doctrine,  first 
published  in  1821,  was  designed  for  the  Evangelical,  that  is, 
the  United  Church,  and  to  meet  alike  the  religious  and  scientific 
demands  of  the  period.  We  cannot  here  enter  into  a  detailed 
exhibition  and  estimate  of  it,  but  must  be  content  with  its 
fundamental  features.  What  most  of  all  distinguishes  Schleier- 
macher's  System  of  Doctrine  from  the  earlier  treatises  of  the  kind 
is,  that  his  book  is  indeed  a  system  of  dogmatics,  an  exposition 
of  that  which  ought  to  be,  and  is,  believed,  and  not  the  product 
of  a  philosophical  school.  Schleiermacher  himself,  in  the  noblest 
sense  philosophically  cultivated,  and  as  an  author  distinguished 
in  the  sphere  of  philosophy,  still  set  himself  in  earnest  op- 
position to  all  attempts  to  confound  philosophy  with  theology.2 

1  Schwarz  has  very  properly  called  attention  to  the  decided  difference 
between  the  old  Lutherans  who  at  last  became  martyrs  to  their  con- 
viction, and  the  new  Lutherans,  who  are  now  very  comfortably  borne 
on  by  the  current  of  the  times,  and  are  favored  by  high  and  low  {Ge- 
schichte der  neuesten  Theologie,  p.  353  ff.). 

2  "Speculation  and  faith  are  often  viewed  as  standing  hostile  to  each 
other;  but  it  was  the  peculiarity  of  this  man  to  unite  them  most  conk- 


schleiermacher's  system  of  doctrine.  357 

With  him,  theology  does  not  stand  or  fall  with  any  philo- 
sophical system  whatever,  but  only  with  religion  and  the  church. 
Where  there  is  no  religion  there  is  no  theology,  and  where 
there  is  no  experience  in  divine  things  such  things  cannot 
be  understood,  no  matter  how  rich  and  extensive  the  philo- 
sophical knowledge.  Religion,  indeed,  is  not  primarily  a  matter 
of  knowledge,  but  of  innermost  self-consciousness,  of  the 
feeling — our  feeling  of  dependence  on  God.  Upon  this  feeling 
of  dependence  Schleiermacher  founds  his  whole  theology. 
Not  what  God  is  in  himself,  but  what  he  is  in  his  relation 
to  this  pious  feeling  of  ours,  is  the  problem  which  a  system 
of  doctrine  has  to  solve.  Inasmuch,  however,  as  this  pious 
feeling  is  only  developed  in  communion,  Christian  dogmatics 
must  also  represent  this  common  Christian  feeling  as  it  lives 
in  the  church. 

But  the  Christian  church,  according  to  Schleiermacher,  is 
not  a  crude  mass  of  people  of  every  shade  of  opinion,  acci- 
dentally brought  together,  but  a  religious  organism — that  body 
of  which  Christ  is  the  head.  Christ  the  Redeemer,  not  merely 
an  ideal  thought-image,  but  the  real  historical  Christ,  as  he 
once  lived  personally  in  history,  and  as  he  now  lives  a  spiritual 
personality,  and  continues  to  work  in  the  church,  is,  accord- 
ing to  him,  the  very  center  of  Christian  theology.  He  knows 
nothing  of  a  doctrine  of  Jesus  which  can  be  conceived  and 
represented  merely  as  doctrine,  apart  from  his  person;  but 
only  by  coming  into  vital  communion  with  the  "Redeemer" 
can  we  become  partakers  of  true  Christianity.  He  proclaimed 
everywhere,  in  the  pulpit  and  in  his  writings,  with  the  greatest 
earnestness,  that  with  Christ  begins  an  entirely  new  era,  both 
in  the  history  of  the  world  and 'in  the  life  of  the  individual; 
that  with  him,  the  sinless  One\  the  dominion  of  nature,  the 
supremacy  of  sin,  first  ceases,  and  the  kingdom  of  grace,  the 
sovereign  rule  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  commences  and  spreads, 
and  that  thus  out  of  Christ  and  without  him  there  is  no 
salvation.    In  this  way  Schleiermacher  brought  theology  back 

ally,  without  prejudice  to  the  freedom  aud  depth  of  the  one,  or  to  the 
simplicity  of  the  other."  von  Humboldt:  Briefe  an  eine  Freundin, 
Vol.  IL  p.  258. 


358 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


to  the  faith  from  which  it  had  departed.  This  was  his  great 
aim.  The  man  who  in  everything  was  elevated  above  the 
letter,  and  whose  very  nature  compelled  him  to  conceive  pro- 
foundly and  spiritually  whatever  he  touched,  could  not  de- 
sire to  establish  a  timid  and  slavish  faith.  While,  therefore, 
with  his  distinct  faith  in  Christ,  from  which  he  would  not 
abate  an  iota,  he  might  appear  on  the  one  side  to  many  as 
a  Mystic,  as  a  philosophizing  Moravian,  who  with  his  dialectics 
could  make  even  nonsense  appear  plausible,  on  the  other  he 
did  not  fail  to  give  offence  by  the  freethinking  style  in  which 
he  expressed  himself  respecting  particular  doctrines,  as  well 
as  individual  books  of  Holy  Scripture,  and  their  relation  to 
the  whole ; 1  for  with  him  the  essence  of  Christianity  depended 
on  none  of  these,  but  only  on  God's  free  grace  in  Christ. 

Schleiermacher  can  be  ranked  with  Herder  so  far  as  he,  like 
Herder,  has  been  very  differently  judged,  some  taking  ex- 
ception at  his  orthodoxy  and  others  charging  him  with  heter- 
odoxy; and  yet  he,  just  as  little  as  Herder,  did  not  belong- 
to  any  sworn  guild  of  philosophers  or  to  any  complete  philo- 
sophical school.  Both  men  have  given  a  great  incitement  to 
youth,  the  latter  by  his  Letters  on  the  Study  of  Theology 
and  the  former  by  his  brief  and  concise  Statement  of  Theo- 
logical Study  (Berlin,  1830).  The  two  were  also  united  in  not 
being*  professional  theologians,  but,  with  their  versatile  learn- 
ing, they  became  active  as  authors  in  other  departments  than 
the  strictly  theological,  and  by  this  means  gained  a  recog- 
nition in  other  than  theological  circles.  And  yet  they  were 
very  different.  While  Herder  shone  as  a  poet  and  historical 
author,  Schleiermacher  surpassed  him  by  a  more  serious 
philosophical  culture.  Herder  illuminated  the  darkness  by  the 
genial  glow  of  his  thoughts;  Schleiermacher  drew  the  fine 
thread  whereon  the  most  difficult  inquiries  hung,  through  the 
labyrinth  of  opposing  thoughts.  Imagination  receded  in  the 
latter  behind  the  dialectics  of  an  understanding  supported 
by  feeling.  While  Herder  united  a  perception  for  ancient 
Grecian  learning  with  profound  views  of  Oriental  life,  Schleier- 

1  See  his  Sendschreiben  an  J.  C.  Gass  (on  1  Timothy),  Berlin,  1807, 
and  his  /Schriften  des  Lukas  (1817). 


LATER  INFLUENCE  OP  SCHLEIERMACHER.  358 

macher's  culture  remained  decidedly  Occidental.  Hence  he 
has  been  charged  with  having  too  little  regard  for  the  great 
importance  of  the  Old  Testament,  while  Herder,  with  his 
most  hearty  religion,  was  at  home  in  this  department,  and 
left  room  for  the  desire  that  his  appreciation  of  the  New 
Testament  were  higher. 

We  may  say  that,  in  a  certain  measure,  they  supplemented 
each  other,  Herder  very  significantly  standing  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  critical  period,  and  Schleiermacher  at  its  end. 
And,  as  we  commenced  our  historical  description  of  this 
critical  period  with  Herder,  so  we  might  close  it  with  Schleier- 
macher; for  what  now  remains  to  be  said,  encroaches  too 
seriously  upon  the  present  time  to  be  fully  ripe  for  historical 
description.  Yet  this  much  may  be  said:  Schleiermacher 
enjoys  an  abundant  intellectual  posterity;  for  we  not  only 
reckon  among  his  disciples  those  who  communicated  his 
doctrine  in  his  words,  as  they  received  it  from  him,  but  we 
estimate  far  higher  the  impulse  which  he  gave  to  theological 
study  in  general,  and  the  blessing  which  he  has  been  the 
means  of  imparting  through  others.  Many  have  set  out  from 
him  who  afterward  took  a  direction  far  more  positive  than 
his.  Yet  it  was  often  said  that  he  led  the  people  to  Pietism! 
Others  of  his  followers  struck  other  paths.  But  we  may  say 
without  hesitation,  that  every  important  theologian  of  either 
tendency  during  the  last  decades,  who  has  not  had  the  privilege 
of  sitting  at  Schleiermacher's  feet  and  feeling  the  power  of 
his  thought,  could  have  gained  far-reaching  and  brilliant  rays 
of  light  from  the  study  of  his  works.  Yet  there  was  oppo- 
sition, which  showed  itself  from  different  sides.  The  older 
Rationalism  felt  uncomfortably  affected  by  the  new  life  now 
beginning  to  stream  through  the  church.  It  charged  Schleier- 
macher with  duplicity,  and  upbraided  him  with  pantheism, 
which  it  was  alleged  that  he  could  wrap  up  and  disguise  in 
Christian  language.1  But  this  charge,  we  have  seen,  can 
only  rest  on  a  misconception,  when  we  compare  him  with 
those  who  arbitrarily  took  their  departure  from  the  historical 

1  Even  the  name  Schleiermacher  (veil-maker)  had  to  be  subjected  to 
many  a  poor  jest. 


3G0 


HISTORY  OP  THE  CHURCH. 


ground  of  Christianity,  and  dissipated  everything  in  the  mist 
of  their  own  speculation.  But  the  rigidly  orthodox,  in  the 
sense  of  Harms,  did  not  make  use  of  Schleiermacher's  theol- 
ogy. They  shunned  and  even  despised  the  acuteness  of  his 
criticism,  and  required  an  unconditional  return  to  the  old 
theology.  But  the  number  of  Schleiermacher1  s  adherents 
sensibly  increased,  and  they  gradually  grouped  around  names 
constantly  growing  in  importance,  who  started  their  own 
organs. 

And  is  it  astonishing  that  the  masses  (both  the  clergy  and 
the  laity),  who  neither  possessed  the  capacity  to  follow  the 
intellectual  process  of  the  new  theology  in  its  finer  develop- 
ments, nor  the  patience  to  wait  for  its  issue,  desired  and 
laid  hold  of  the  results  that  had  been  obtained,  where  this 
theology  was  presented  with  the  confidence  of  a  "  decided 
faith?"  But  soon  everything  seemed  to  undergo  a  change  in 
the  theological  horizon.  While  not  enough  could  be  thrown 
overboard  ten  or  twenty  years  previously,  there  now  sprang 
up  in  the  younger  generation  a  strong  desire  to  excel  their 
fathers  and  grandfathers  in  genuine  old  orthodoxy.  The 
younger  school  wished  the  old  system  back  again,  and  the 
older  would  not  let  go  what  had  once  seemed  young  and 
new  to  them.  As  there  now  came  upon  the  scene  a  new 
philosophy,  which  threw  to  the  ground  the  authority  of  Kant 
and  his  school,  and  promised  overthrow  to  Rationalism  and 
a  safe  support  to  ecclesiastical  orthodoxy,  so  the  triumph 
now  seemed  complete.  Only  this  question  remained :  Whether 
this  philosophy  could  be  permanently  trusted,  or  whether  an 
enemy  still  more  dangerous  than  the  former  might  not  be 
lurking  behind  it?  This  new  philosophy  was  the  Hegelian 
system,  of  which  we  shall  speak  in  the  next  lecture. 


LECTURE  XVXII. 


THE  HEGELIAN  PHILOSOPHY '.  ITS  EIGHT  AND  LEFT  SIDES. — 
STRAUSS. — FEUERBACH  AND  BRUNO  BAUER.  —  OTHER  PHILO- 
SOPHICAL TENDENCIES.  —  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  THE  PER- 
SONAL GOD. — MODERN  SCIENCE  IN  GENERAL  AND  THE 
THEOLOGY  OF  THE  PRESENT  TIME.  —  THE  PRACTICAL  CHRIS- 
TIANITY OF  OUR  DAY.  —  MODERN  PIETISM.  —  THE  POWER  OF 
FAITH  AND  LOVE.  —  PASTOR  OBERLIN. 

We  enter  the  last  stage  of  the  historical  development  of 
Protestantism  by  treating  the  Hegelian  philosophy  on  its 
scientific  side.  We  thus  enter  upon  the  present,  on  the 
boundary  between  what  has  transpired  and  the  uncertain 
future.  Hegel  himself  is  no  more  among  the  living,  and  his 
system  cannot  be  considered  as  fully  within  the  province  of 
history.  Moreover,  the  divergent  effects  of  the  Hegelian  philos- 
ophy did  not  come  to  light  till  after  the  author's  death,  and  hence, 
besides  their  difficult  nature,  it  is  doubly  difficult  to  say  what 
Hegel  himself  wished  and  aimed  at  in  religious  and  ecclesiastical 
matters.  As  in  considering  the  earlier  philosophers,  Kant, 
Fichte  and  Schelling,  we  had  to  desist  from  a  satisfactory 
view  of  their  systems  as  a  whole,  we  must  here  have  still 
more  modest  desires,  because  only  a  complete  knowledge  of 
earlier  systems,  which  is  wanting  in  the  present  case,  would 
make  it  possible  to  understand  the  Hegelian  system.  Be- 
sides, no  other  of  the  earlier  philosophies  is  so  purely  and 
exclusively  speculative  as  this,  none  offers  less  popular  points 
of  view  than  this,  none  less  than  this  can  be  transformed 
into  other  words  and  conceptions  without  doing  violence  to 


3G2 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


its  own  nature,  because  Hegel  himself  unites  only  a  certain 
conception  with  a  certain  word,  and  expects  us  to  study  our- 
selves into  a  language  totally  new.  A  Hegelian  lexicon  and 
grammar  are,  however,  not  so  easily  formed.  As  far  as  this 
system,  as  such,  is  concerned,  we  must  necessarily  satisfy 
ourselves  with  but  little,  and  can  only  introduce  what  stands 
in  most  intimate  connection  with  the  religious  and  Christian 
view  of  life. 

While  Schleiermacher,  in  harmony  with  Jacobi,  placed  the 
essence  of  religion  chiefly  in  feeling,  and  considered  knowledge 
secondary  and  collateral,  Hegel,  on  the  other  hand,  laid  chief 
stress  on  knowledge.  To  him,  feeling  was  only  a  subjective 
form  of  religion,  and  really  the  worst  of  all  forms,  because  it  is 
only  subjective,  that  is,  it  is  connected  with  the  individual 
personality.  Consequently,  that  feeling  of  independence  in 
which  Schleiermacher  places  religion,  is,  in  his  eyes,  nothing 
better  than  that  instinctive  feeling  of  independence  which 
attaches  a  dog  to  its  master.  But  in  the  department  of 
knowledge,  Hegel  further  distinguishes  between  the  religious 
conception,  as  it  proceeds  from  feeling,  and  the  idea  or 
notion.  The  lower  classes  can  satisfy  themselves  with  religious 
conceptions  (of  heaven,  hell,  etc.),  but  not  the  true  thinker. 
He  discovers  in  conceptions  a  contradiction  between  what  the 
conception  should  express  and  what  it  really  does  express. 
This  contradiction,  as  Hegel  says,  must  be  removed,  that  is, 
it  must  be  changed  into  something  higher  and  above  con- 
tradiction. 

The  gradation  of  religious  knowledge  in  individuals  and 
nations  is  this:  that  man  should  take  the  religious  matter 
present  to  him  as  something  exterior,  foreign  and  distinct 
from  him,  without  being  thoroughly  penetrated  by  it.  The 
immediate  requirement  is,  therefore,  that  he  inquire  into  the 
matter,  appropriate  it,  and  be  penetrated  by  it;  but  in  doing 
this,  it  easily  happens  that  he  subjects  the  nature  of  what 
is  revealed  to  his  arbitrary  authority,  and  makes  the  things 
into  what  they  should  be  to  him  instead  of  taking  them  as 
they  really  are.  In  reference  to  religion,  the  early  period 
took  the  former  course;  positive  orthodoxy  accepted  the 


PRINCIPLES  OF  THE  HEGELIAN  PHILOSOPHY.  3G3 

traditional  material  just  as  it  was  presented, — as  a  hard, 
tough  mass;  reason  subjected  its  opinions  and  inclinations  to 
what  the  church  approved.  The  later  period,  on  the  other 
hand,  distinguished  itself  by  striving  to  appropriate  and  arrange 
what  was  offered  to  it.  In  the  former  instance  an  objective 
torpidity  arose;  in  the  latter,  subjective  authority. 

The  new  philosophy  attempts  to  elevate  the  thinking  spirit 
above  both  these  standpoints,  since  it  neither  permits  the 
material  offered  to  confront  us  in  its  stiffness  and  antago- 
nism, nor  concedes  its  change,  against  all  the  principles  of 
right,  into  a  picture  of  our  subjective  opinion  and  preference. 
The  enmity  between  "the  thing  in  itself,"  which,  as  a  ghost, 
had  long  provoked  the  philosophers,  and  the  thinking  EgoT 
should  be  removed  in  this  way:  that  the  individual  should  not 
place  himself,  thinking,  guessing  and  supposing,  before  objects, 
and  make  a  casual  conception  of  them,  according  to  his  own 
pleasure,  but  that  he  enter  into  them  with  self-denial  (though 
with  freedom),  permit  the  spirit  controlling  them  to  influence 
him,  and  thus  gain  supremacy  over  the  conception,  which 
pervades  and  moves  objects.  This  is  what  Hegel  calls  im- 
manence, the  self-movement  of  the  conception,  the  absolute 
process,  or  the  chemistry  of  thought,  in  opposition  to  earlier 
mechanism. 

Thus  far  we  can  recognize  only  a  wholesome  progress  of 
knowledge  in  the  Hegelian  principle  of  thought.  What 
Schelling  had  asserted  of  nature  and  our  relation  to  it — 
that  we  must  enter  into  its  secrets,  live  within  its  still 
dreams,  its  phantasies  and  its  thoughts,  if  we  would  attain 
a  living  perception  of  it — was  demanded  by  Hegel,  though 
with  less  poetry,  but  with  all  the  sharper  dialectics  of  thought, 
of  those  things  which  belong  to  the  historical  and  ethical 
departments,  jurisprudence,  works  of  art,  and  religion.  To 
the  false  and  merely  empirical  realism  of  an  exterior  treat- 
ment, he  would  bring  an  ideal  view  of  things,  and  on  the  other 
hand,  lead  back  one-sided  idealism  to  reality.  The  corporeal 
and  material  should  be  spiritualized,  but  the  airy  and  shadowy 
character  of  a  soul  separated  from  its  body  should  be  again 
embodied,  so  that  it  should  not  be  merely  something  cogi- 
Vol.  II.— 24 


364 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


tated,  but  real  and  operative.  He  wished  the  time  of  negation 
to  be  followed  by  a  period  of  affirmation;  that  of  vacillation, 
opinion,  and  counsel  by  one  of  free,  vital,  and  safe  knowl- 
edge. The  spirit  must  comprehend  its  own  deepest  roots, 
and  wander  no  longer  about  as  a  dreamer  among  dreamers. 
And  who  would  not  willingly  belong  to  those  who  are  awake, 
after  people  had  long  permitted  themselves  to  be  led  by  one 
dream  to  another? 

In  strong  opposition  to  Kant,  who  had  deprived  human 
reason  of  the  right  to  philosophize  on  divine  things,  Hegel 
demanded  back  this  right  of  search  after  God,  yet  not  in  the 
old  way,  as  if  the  finite  and  prejudiced  spirit  of  the  individ- 
ual could  comprehend  the  infinite  by  its  own  self-desired 
proofs,  but  just  the  reverse.  God  comprehends  himself  in 
man,  and  comes  to  consciousness  in  him,  for  as  God  (accord- 
ing to  the  Bible)  once  became  man  in  Christ,  so  will  he 
(according  to  Hegel)  always  become  man  in  us.  According 
to  Hegel,  reason  and  speculation  are  not  contradictory.  Revela- 
tion, however,  lays  down  as  a  general  truth  for  the  con- 
ception that  which  reason  brings  in  the  form  of  an  idea. 
Since  Hegel  holds  that  the  essence  of  true  philosophy  con- 
sists in  not  merely  perceiving  the  human  but  also  God,  as 
he  is,  this  is  a  prerogative  which  philosophy  has  in  com- 
mon with  Christian  revelation,  though  in  a  different  manner; 
for  the  essence  of  Christian  revelation  cannot  consist  in  its 
dismissing  us  with  a  few  moral  commonplaces,  but  in  re- 
vealing to  us  the  depths  of  the  Godhead. 

Hegel  asks  with  Lessing:  What  would  a  revelation  amount 
to  which  reveals  nothing?  But  Hegel  finds  the  essential 
point  of  revelation  to  consist  in  revealing  God  to  us  as 
the  Triune  One,  and  as  the  same  whom  philosophy  perceives; 
for  he  also  finds  in  the  Deity  the  same  process  of  sepa- 
rating what  was  originally  one,  and  of  reuniting  what  was 
separate,  which  he  proves  in  the  human  process  of  thought. 
Thus  he  calls  God,  in  his  abstract,  inseparable  universality, 
the  Father;  but  in  so  far  as  the  known  is  distinct  from  the 
one  knowing,  with  whom  he  is  one,  however,  he  is  called  the 
Son,  while  it  is  the  Spirit  which  brings  the  twofold  character 


SPECULATIVE  TENDENCIES  OF  HEGELIANISM.  305 

of  Father  and  Son  in  the  essence  of  God  to  the  unity  of  con- 
sciousness. 

Now,  here  it  may  he  asked  by  a  plain  Christian  man, 
whether  these  depths  into  which  the  Hegelian  speculation 
leads  us,  are  the  same  as  those  into  which  the  saving  Chris- 
tian doctrine  conducts  those  who  desire  salvation?  And  after 
some  reflection,  if  he  will  not  permit  himself  to  be  controlled 
by  forms,  he  will  soon  learn  that  the  knowledge  to  which 
the  Holy  Scriptures  lead  us,  is  not  purely  for  the  sake  ot 
knowledge  and  perception,  but  that  it  should  serve  for  the 
confirmation  of  our  salvation,  and  that  the  whole  doctrine  of 
Father,  Son  and  Spirit,  has  a  meaning  for  us  only  so  far  as 
we,  as  children,  love  the  Father,  permit  ourselves  to  be  saved 
by  the  Son,  and  reproved  and  sanctified  by  the  Spirit;  fox 
"if  I  have  all  knowledge,"  says  the  Apostle,  "and  have  not 
charity  (that  is,  the  practical  religion  of  the  spirit,  the  pious, 
divinely-inspired  disposition  and  course  of  life),  I  am  nothing." 

This  practical  signification  of  religious  perception,  its  final 
purpose  for  our  salvation,  its  pedagogic  characteristic,  so  to 
speak,  which  Pietism  conceived  too  dimly  and  Rationalism 
too  superficially,  and  which  Schleiermacher  brought  to  light 
in  its  universal  fruitfulness,  was  pushed  aside  by  Hegel's 
speculative  tendency.  Let  this  speculative  tendency  have  its 
perfect  right  in  the  proper  place,  but  not  supplant  religion, 
or  attempt,  as  a  nobler  form,  to  elevate  itself  above  it. 
There  will  be  other  dialecticians  besides  Schleiermacher,  and 
where  the  question  concerns  only  speculative  philosophy,  he, 
the  Plato  of  the  nineteenth  century,  might  say  a  word;  but 
he  was  penetrating  and  humble  enough  to  assign  to  knowl- 
edge its  proper  place,  and  to  permit  the  religious  life, — 
which,  indeed,  is  not  knowledge,  but  a  definiteness  of  feeling, 
or  rather  of  the  most  hearty  sentiment, — to  develop  itself  on 
its  own  soil,  yet  not  in  contradiction  to  knowledge,  though 
in  conscious  and  positive  difference  from  it. 

And  here  Hegel  and  Schleiermacher  differed  most  decidedly; 
for  while  the  former  merges  religion  and  theology  into  philos- 
ophy, the  latter  keeps  them  separate,  and  allows  the  life 
of  pious  feeling  and  religious  communion,  in  a  word,  the  life 


3G6 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


of  faith,  independently  of  the  development  of  philosophical 
systems,  to  enjoy  a  happy,  vigorous  growth  from  its  own 
root;  and  yet  he  does  not  preclude  it  from  the  influence  of 
speculation.  And  it  remains  down  to  the  present  time  a 
question,  whether  those  who  think  that  the  standpoint  of  the 
believer  does  not  reach  that  of  the  philosopher,  may  not  be 
well  answered  by  saying,  that  the  philosopher's  thinking  does 
not  reach  the  standpoint  of  true  faith.  But  these  departments 
can  no  more  be  mingled  in  the  soul  than  sound  can  be 
smelled,  or  color  tasted.  But  there  is  still  a  further  and 
more  important  difference  between  Hegel  and  Schleiermacher. 
Since  Schleiermacher  does  not  make  religion  dependent  on 
philosophic  thought,  but  views  it  as  an  experience  of  the 
pious  man,  the  positive  historical  appearance  of  the  Savior 
into  the  world,  the  historical  Christ,  and  the  institution  of 
the  church  founded  by  him,  have  far  more  significance  on 
Schleiermacher's  theology  than  in  the  philosophy  of  Hegel, 
of  whom  it  is  often  uncertain  how  far  his  expressions  about 
the  God-man  refer  to  the  real  Christ,  or  to  the  ideal  and 
speculative  Christ,  to  whom  the  historical  Christ  is  related 
as  species  to  genus.  We  shall  return  to  this  point  again  in 
speaking  of  Strauss. 

If  we  now  ask  what  was  Hegel's  influence  upon  his  times, 
we  shall  see  that  he  was  decidedly  opposed  to  the  prevailing 
theology  of  reason  (Rationalism).  What  was  called  reason  he 
opposed  as  a  mischievous  play  of  prejudice,  as  ridiculous 
twaddle,  as  dead  formalism.  In  opposition  to  the  insipid, 
rationalizing  illuminism  of  the  understanding,  which  had  ex- 
tended far  and  wide,  he  advocated  the  profound  orthodoxy, 
and  even  restored  the  despised  Scholastics  to  honor.  He 
denied  that  the  Rationalists  possessed  a  theology,  since  God 
was  unknown  to  them.  The  really  grammatical,  historical  ex- 
position of  the  Bible,  in  which  many  of  the  rationalistic  school 
had  engaged,  appeared  to  him  merely  insipid  and  literal, — 
an  opinion  too  willingly  endorsed  by  his  disciples,  who  pre- 
ferred the  use  of  philosophical  technicalities  to  the  serious 
study  of  the  Hebrew  grammar  and  similar  works. 

But  Hegel  also  arrayed  himself  decidedly  against  the  polit- 


hegel's  political  influence  upon  his  times.  367 

ical  liberalism  then  fermenting  among  the  students.  In 
decided  opposition  to  the  ideal  improvers  of  the  world,  who, 
discontented  with  the  present,  dreamed  of  new  constitutions 
and  forms  of  government,  he  advanced  the  proposition,  which 
has  been  so  much  misunderstood,  that,  what  is  really  in  exist- 
ence is  right  and  reasonable.  If,  for  example,  reason  does 
not  exist  so  much  in  us  as  in  the  things  themselves,  as  the 
treasure  hid  in  the  field,  it  is  all-important  that  we  dig  up 
the  treasure,  over  which  the  multitude  had  wandered.  We 
must  understand  the  matter  in  its  real  character,  and  not, 
setting  out  from  abstract  ideals,  arbitrarily  regard  it  as 
something  foreign,  inflexible  and  hostile,  but  penetrate  it  with 
our  spirit,  and  become  conscious  of  its  own  spirit.  This 
sentiment  was  certainly  a  good  corrective  for  hasty  youthful 
pride,  while  a  great  law  for  the  study  of  history  was  gained 
by  it.  The  Middle  Ages,  and  everything  that  had  taken  shape 
since  then,  now  appeared  very  different.  While  formerly  every 
one  had  placed  himself  haughtily  above  history,  he  now  learnt 
to  subject  himself  to  it,  and  to  have  respect  for  what  had 
acquired  historical  permanence.  Thus  this  philosophy,  on 
its  first  appearance,  was  welcomed  by  all  those  who  feared 
youthful  political  enthusiasm.  The  historical  school  seemed 
to  receive  from  Hegel  as  firm  a  support  in  law,  art  and 
politics,  as  ecclesiastical  orthodoxy  acquired. 

And  yet  matters  changed  very  soon.  Hegel  had  scarcely 
closed  his  eyes,  when,  in  close  connection  with  what  the  July 
Revolution  in  France  (1830)  had  accomplished,  the  disciples 
of  this  philosopher,  under  the  name  of  Young  Germany,  pro- 
claimed a  doctrine  which  men  of  order  had  far  more  reason 
to  fear  than  the  youthful  political  dreams  of  the  so-called 
Teutonians.  They  pulled  down  with  the  same  dialectical 
dexterity  with  which  the  master  had  seemed  to  build  up. 
And  this  they  appeared  to  do  without  being  untrue  to  their 
system;  for  when  revolution  once  became  the  actual  order  of 
the  day,  it  could  appear  to  be  justified  by  the  proposition, 
that,  what  is  real  is  right.  With  the  change  in  the  political 
horizon,  there  also  occurred  a  change  in  the  theories  adapted 
to  the  times.    France,  which  gave  the  first  alarm,  now  ap- 


368 


HISTORY  OF  TUE  CHURCH. 


peared  a  model  state,  and  Napoleon,  the  hero  of  that  nation,  for 
whom  Hegel  had  earlier  manifested  no  little  sympathy,  now 
became  the  hero  of  Young  Germany.  Men  laughed  at  the  old 
Wartburg  stories,  the  German  coats,  and  the  like,  and  cos- 
mopolitanism, as  reflected  in  new  France,  was  elevated  to  a 
political  dogma. 

Had  this  occurred  only  in  politics,  it  would  be  of  no  further 
concern  to  us ;  but  our  experience  was  the  same  in  theology. 
Hegel  had  restored  to  authority  the  positive  element  in  theology; 
in  his  teachings  orthodoxy  seemed  to  receive  a  new  and  firm, 
because  strongly  scientific,  support,  though  it  was  evident  to 
those  who  could  not  be  deceived  by  mere  forms,  that  Hegel's 
orthodoxy  was  not  of  a  serious  cast,  nor  what  the  real  ad- 
mirers of  the  master  wished  it.  The  Hegelian  Trinity  was 
neither  that  of  Athanasius  and  of  the  symbolical  books  nor 
of  the  Bible  or  Bible  Christians,  and  Hegel  could  less  repel 
the  suspicion  of  pantheism  than  Schleiermacher,  whose  specu- 
lative view  was  supplemented  by  that  of  faith.  The  indefi- 
niteness,  ambiguity,  and  oracularness  which,  with  all  his  lavish- 
ness  of  logical  acuteness  and  all  his  famous  severity  of  method, 
were  not  wanting  in  Hegel's  works,  could  alone  make  it 
possible  that  the  disciples,  soon  after  his  death,  should  dispute 
about  the  master's  words,  separate  into  two  parties,  which, 
with  a  perverted  reference  to  the  political  parties  in  Parlia- 
ment, have  been  called  the  Right  and  Left  sides.  The  Right 
side,  represented  by  honorable,  learned  and  intelligent  men, 
and  also  by  those  who  had  been  first  incited  by  Schleier- 
macher, aimed  to  prove  that  Hegel  was  serious  with  Chris- 
tianity, and  that  only  by  pursuing  this  course  could  Ration- 
alism and  Supernaturalism  be  truly  reconciled.  It  replies  to 
the  charge  that  the  new  speculation  perverts  the  doctrines 
of  the  church,  by  saying,  that  it  gives  them  a  deeper  and 
more  vital  force,  for  they  had  been  formerly  petrified  by 
some  and  made  superficial  by  others.  Pantheism  (they  further 
taught)  is  only  a  bugbear  to  those  who  cannot  reconcile 
themselves  to  a  God  dwelling  in  the  world,  and  who  need  a 
personal  God  for  their  selfish  and  personal  aims. 

The  Left  side  found  its  most  decided  and  expert  advocate 


THE  MYTHICAL  THEORY  NOT  ORIGINATED  BY  STRAUSS.  3G9 

in  Strauss,  who  declared  in  his  Lif  j  of  Jesus,  that  what  the 
church  and  the  believing  world  had  previously  accepted  as 
history,  is  not  history,  but  myth.  The  word  myth  was  nothing- 
new;  neither  did  it  originate  with  the  Hegelian  school.  The 
mediatory  theologians  had  long  relied  upon  the  thought,  that 
not  every  Biblical  narrative  must  be  considered  real  history, 
still  less  to  be  interpreted  in  a  natural  way,  as  the  Nation- 
alists had  attempted,  but  that  events  of  a  higher  spiritual 
life,  as  they  occur  at  all  times  in  the  sphere  of  faith,  are 
repeated,  and  meet  in  the  form  of  histories,  whose  contents 
we  should  separate  from  the  outward  form. 

Even  the  early  Origen  had  tended  this  way,  with  his  allegor- 
ical interpretation,  and  the  Mystics  had  made  a  similar  effort; 
and  with  clearer  consciousness  the  new  theology  attempted  to 
separate  history  from  symbol,  which  was  veiled  in  a  historical 
garb.  De  Wette,  proceeding  from  this  new  (modern)  con- 
sciousness, has  thrown  a  great  part  of  the  Old  Testament 
narratives  into  the  mythical  realm,  and  Schleiermacher  did 
not  hesitate  to  consider  the  accounts  of  the  early  youth  of 
Jesus  and  his  last  ascension  to  the  Father,  as  the  poetical 
expression  of  the  truth,  that  the  beginning  and  end  of  this 
wonderful  life  should  be  as  little  measured  by  the  laws  of 
common  experience  as  this  life  itself.  It  was  thought  that 
such  narratives  could  be  rescued  from  the  hands  of  unbe- 
lievers by  thus  removing  them  to  a  department  which  was 
closed  to  the  commonplace  understanding.  But  what  occurred 
within  the  bounds  of  moderation  was  extended  beyond  meas- 
ure by  Strauss,  who  thought,  not  only  that  the  shell  con- 
tained mythical  elements,  but  that  the  kernel  of  the  life  of 
Jesus  was  the  production  of  the  pious  poetic  fancy  attributed 
to  him  by  the  early  Christian  church.  This  new  critic,  not 
allowing  the  waves  of  the  poetic  spirit  to  play  over  the  sur- 
face of  the  Gospel  legend,  invoked  from  its  depths  a  giant 
form  hitherto  unknown,  which,  by  pious  fiction,  succeeded  in 
moving  the  world  from  its  old  orbit,  and  in  calling  into 
existence  the  Christian  religion.  Strauss  suddenly  reversed 
the  previous  relation.  Christ  had  not  established  the  church, 
but  the  church  had  invented  its  Christ,  had  spelled  him  out 


370 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


of  the  Old  Testament  prophecies,  and  out  of  the  prevalent 
hopes  and  expectations  founded  on  them.  A  thick  crust  of 
miraculous  stories  had  gathered  about  this  thin  kernel,  and 
hence  it  is  difficult  to  find  any  real  history.1 

But  apart  from  the  improbability  and  conjecture  on  which 
Strauss  attempted  to  establish  this  view  in  particular,  it  ap- 
peared very  remarkable  to  a  profound  thinker,  who  would 
not  be  led  astray  by  the  illusive  appearance  of  the  argument, 
how  the  Christian  church  could  grow  into  such  an  ideal,  with- 
out the  fruit  of  real  experience  and  observation.  The  personal 
support  is  here  wanting  in  history,  as  is  ever  the  case  in 
pantheistic  systems.  But  Strauss  would  have  furnished  a 
powerful  witness  to  the  power  of  the  religious  idea,  if  that 
idea  alone  had  really  succeeded  in  inventing  a  Christ.  We 
are  reminded  of  Herder's  words:  "Did  the  fishermen  of  Galilee 
invent  such  a  history?  Then  blessed  be  their  memories  that 
they  did  do  it ! ,"  and  of  those  of  Claudius :  "  One  might  even 
die  for  such  an  idea."  Strauss  himself  said,  that,  according 
to  his  view,  the  historical  Christ  is  lost,  but  that  the  ideal, 
divine-human  Christ  contributed  more  to  religious  elevation 
than  the  Jesus  of  the  Rationalists,  who,  though  historical, 
was  only  human,  and  destitute  of  all  identity. 

It  soon  became  evident  how  slight  was  the  support  of  an 
ideal  Christianity  deprived  of  its  historical  foundation;  and 
only  a  few  years  passed  by  after  the  appearance  of  Strauss' 
Life  of  Jesus  before  the  entire  contents  of  the  Christian 
doctrine  with  which  he  had  comforted  his  readers  in  the 
Appendix,  were  torn  to  pieces  in  a  dogmatic  way  before  their 
eyes,  and  scattered  to  the  winds,  as  mercilessly  as  had  been  the 
exterior  life  of  the  Savior  himself.  Thus,  those  who  had  hoped 
that  Strauss  would  rebuild  dogmatically  what  he  had  destroyed 
historically,  found  themselves  bitterly  deceived  on  the  appear- 
ance of  his  System  of  Doctrines  (1840).  He  now  declared, 
that  modern  science  and  the  faith  of  Christians  never  sprang 
from  a  common  source,  and  that  a  reconciliation  was  im- 

1  Strauss,  as  is  well  known,  boasted  of  his  freedom  from  hypothesis 
and  would  not  look  at  the  hypothesis  on  which  he  himself  built,  and 
which  others  proved  to  him. 


DOCTRINAL  EXCESSES  OF  THE  EXTREME  HEGELIAN  LEFT.  371 

possible.  Others  soon  harmonized  here  with  Strauss.  In- 
deed, who  would  believe  that  there  were  those  (as  Bruno 
Bauer)  who  could  go  beyond  Strauss,  by  calling  what  he  had 
regarded  as  pious  invention  and  the  aggregate  work  of  religious 
fanaticism,  the  intentional  device  of  an  individual,  and  by  rep- 
resenting, not  only  the  contents  of  all  positive  (revealed) 
religion  as  false,  but  (with  Feuerbach)  the  religion  of  man  in 
general  as  self-deception,  as  an  ignoble  game,  which  man 
practiced  on  himself  by  worshiping  as  God  the  reflection  of 
his  own  inward  nature?  What  else  could  follow  from  these 
hypotheses  but  the  conclusion,  so  welcome  to  many,  that  the 
gloomy  religion  of  the  future,  which  restrained  man,  must 
cease,  and  give  place  to  a  cheerful  philosophy  of  the  present 
life?1  If  to  this  philosophy  a  young  poetic  school  correspond- 
ing to  it  should  be  added,  which  orders  the  cross  to  be  torn 
from  the  earth,  and  promises  to  resummon,  not  only  the  old 
gods  of  Greece  (in  Schiller's  sense),  but  gross  heathenism,  of 
course  the  history  of  Protestantism  is  at  an  end,  provided 
the  edge  of  a  bottomless  abyss  is  really  the  aim  for  which 
Protestantism  is  striving. 

I  should  indeed  have  a  melancholy  feeling  if,  after  leading 
you  through  such  a  winding  path,  sometimes  through  barren 
wastes  and  deserts,  but  again  through  many  beautiful  fields 
and  luxuriant  groves,  I  should  have  to  lay  down  the  staff  of 
the  guide  and  say:  "We  have  reached  the  end."  But,  thank 
God,  this  is  not  the  case.  We  have  only  followed  one  side 
to  its  termination,  where  endless  negation  is  swallowed  up  in 
annihilation;  but  in  this  way  we  have  fulfilled  the  unpleasant 
duty  of  showing  where  a  philosophy  torn  loose  from  the  heart 

1  We  do  not  here  inquire  into  the  extent  to  which  this  extreme  denial 
of  religion  is  connected  with  the  rehabilitation  of  the  flesh  and  the 
communistic  tendencies.  "We  are  glad  to  believe,  that  the  champions  of 
the  former  tendency  in  science  did  not  harmonize  with  those  of  the 
latter;  but  no  one  can  doubt  that  religious  nihilism  can  aid  those 
miserable  efforts,  and  that  moral  and  social  weakness  is  a  result  of 
religious  instability;  and  the  future  will  give  further  proof  of  this. 
Indeed,  it  has  already  done  this  since  the  first  ed.  of  this  work.  Comp. 
Schwarz,  Geschichte  der  neuesten  Theologie,  p.  242  ff. 


372 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


of  God,  and  impelled  merely  by  the  mechanism  of  its  own 
dialectics,  must  inevitably  lead.1 

There  is  something  very  peculiar  in  the  Hegelian  philos- 
ophy. No  one  protested  more  violently  than  Hegel  against 
a  system  which,  without  looking  at  things  as  they  really  are, 
merely  philosophizes  from  certain  hypotheses.  He  has  well 
designated  it  as  the  abstract  mode  of  thinking,  and  opposed 
it  with  the  concrete.  He  very  rightly  demanded,  that  thought 
should  master  the  deepest  roots  of  the  world  and  its  phe- 
nomena, that  it  should  go  to  the  very  bottom  of  things,  and 
comprehend  the  fresh  vigor  of  life.  He  has  thus  assigned  a 
great  task  to  the  human  mind,  and  saved  the  philosophers 
from  a  number  of  stray  paths;  and  for  this  reason  we  would 
recognize  all  the  greatness  and  importance  of  the  Hegelian 
philosophy  in  calling  back  the  mind  from  its  ideal  dreams  to 
reality.  But  it  must  be  all  the  more  remarkable  to  us,  that 
the  great  mass  of  Hegelians  (they  were  ironically  termed 
HegeUngs)  have  fallen  into  the  very  error  that  their  master 
wished  to  avoid,  for  it  is  not  easy  for  a  philosophy  to  appear 
more  abstract  and  arbitrary  than  in  the  mouth  of  the  inordi- 
nately puffed-up  worshipers  of  this  system.  No  other  has  been 
more  riveted  into  a  spiritless  mechanism  than  this,  which  is 
continually  speaking  of  spirit.  None  more  than  this  philos- 
ophy, in  the  hands  of  these  men,  has  more  completely  denied 
life  as  it  is,  or  twisted  facts  into  whatever  shape  it  pleased. 
None  has  known  how  to  play  more  deceptively  with  words, 
or  scrubbed  away  more  utterly  the  fragrance  and  splendor 
of  reality.  None  has  dissipated  more  thoroughly  the  personal, 
actual,  and  individual  life,  which  it  regards  merely  as  a 
fleeting  shadow,  a  passing  wave,  a  "vanishing  property"  of 
things,  though  really  their  root  and  essence.  Hence,  human 
personality  in  history  vanishes  before  it,  just  as  God's  per- 
sonality into  the  great  Universe. 

We  do  not  wish  to  be  understood  as  pronouncing  a  judg- 
ment on  Hegel's  philosophy,  as  its  author  himself  conceived 
it.  We  speak,  I  repeat  it,  of  those  who  have  unhappily  applied 

1  Unless,  to  make  use  of  a  favorite  Hegelian  word,  the  lauded  chemistry 
of  thought  itself  is  "enveloped"  in  mechanism. 


RELIGION  INDEPENDENT  OF  PHILOSOPHICAL  SYSTEMS.  373 

its  real  or  supposed  results  to  a  destructive  theology.  There- 
fore, though  Hegelianism  may  be  considered  a  giant's  swoid, 
which,  when  employed  by  a  hero,  can  inflict  many  wounds,  and 
may  honorably  give  many  a  knightly  battle,  yet,  when  used 
by  the  children  of  our  times,  is  like  a  sword  in  a  child's 
hand,  and  may  inflict  serious  injury.  We  leave  undecided 
the  question,  whether  the  worthy  men  of  the  so-called  Right 
side  will  be  able  to  wrest  the  sword  from  the  Left,  so  as  to 
win  the  laurel  wreath  for  their  master  and  themselves.1 

It  is,  however,  a  consolation  that  the  fate  of  religion,  the 
church,  theology,  yea,  of  Christianity  and  of  Protestantism, 
is  not  dependent  on  the  course  of  this  or  that  school  of 
philosophy,  nor  on  the  victory  of  this  or  that  system,  but 
that  quite  different  vital  forces  come  into  play,  of  which  our 
philosophy,  even  the  newest,  does  not  dream;  forces  which 
God  himself  has  implanted  in  man's  religious  nature,  which  he 
has  awakened  and  called  forth  by  the  spirit  of  Christ,  and 
which  he  has  received  into  his  church,  and  which  he  has  re- 
newed and  strengthened  in  extraordinary  times,  as  in  the 
Reformation.  Philosophy  may  endeavor  to  comprehend  them, 
if  an  energy  can  be  understood;  it  may  discover  and  present, 
but  cannot  create  them.  It  is  always  in  the  rear  of  life,  just 
as  the  boy's  net  is  behind  the  butterfly,  and,  like  the  boy, 
it  often  scrapes  off  the  delicate  coloring  of  the  wings  by 
clumsy  seizure. 

Let  us  therefore  now  direct  our  attention  to  practical  life, 
and  ask,  how  it  has  developed  in  the  last  decades  within  the 
sphere  of  Protestantism?  We  discover  that  Protestantism  is 
not  so  badly  situated  as  a  glance  at  the  results  of  the 

1  Schwarz  very  properly  remarks:  "The  influence  of  Schleiermacher, 
though  his  labors  were  less  noisy  than  Hegel's,  has  been  far  more 
permanent,  and  exercises  a  quietly  and  inwardly  transforming  power. 
Schleiermacher's  influence  still  continues,  while  Hegel's  has  become  ex- 
hausted and  obsolete.  .  .  .  This  so-called  philosophy  of  reality  met 
with  its  own  fate.  It  has  been  a  constant  vacillation  between  bad 
empiricism  and  abstract  formalism,  between  construction  of  the  in- 
dividual and  incapacity  for  it."  Geschichte  der  neuesten  Theologie  (New 
Ed.),  p.  22. 


374 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


newest  philosophy  and  criticism  has  shown  us.  If,  however, 
before  we  consider  practical  life  we  delay  a  moment  with 
science  and  philosophy,  we  must  confess,  if  we  only  listen  to 
the  voices  on  either  hand,  that  there  is  still  a  faith,  an 
energetic  faith,  to  which  knowledge  is  a  matter  of  serious 
import.  Beside  Hegel's  philosophy  another  one  has  developed 
itself,  which  may  be  called  the  philosophy  of  the  personal 
God,  and  which  numbers  many  adherents.  Whether  it  places 
itself  in  the  great  historical  development,  and  carries  Hegel 
beyond  himself  (from  pantheism  to  theism),  or,  turning  from 
Hegel,  pursues  its  own  course,  this  much  is  certain:  that  the 
speculative  tendency  of  the  later  period,  notwithstanding  its 
degeneration,  has  done  the  good  service  of  compelling  the 
mind  to  descend  to  the  depths  of  knowledge.  A  superficial 
reasoning,  as  it  was  still  possible  under  the  name  of  philos- 
ophy thirty  or  forty  years  ago,  has  now  become  impossible. 
Men  are  now  ever  penetrating  further  the  essence  of  things. 
Subjective  opinions  and  predilections,  indulgence  in  wonderful 
conceits  from  a  contracted  standpoint,  can  no  more  make  way 
against  the  enlarged  views  to  which  our  times  are  accustomed. 
The  stiff  and  awkward  manner  of  the  earlier  polemics  has 
given  place  to  skillful  dialectics,  which,  instead  of  selfishly 
insisting  on  their  own  proposition,  enter  into  the  opinion  of  an 
opponent,  and,  instead  of  striking  it  down  from  without,  seek 
to  refute  it  from  within,  after  fully  comprehending  and  pene- 
trating it. 

Though  the  devastations  produced  by  the  Left  side  of  the 
speculative  school  in  ecclesiastical,  political  and  ethical  life, 
are  greater  and  deeper  than  were  the  negative  effects  of 
Rationalism,  the  shallowness  and  dryness  of  a  method  of 
thought  which  once  claimed  to  be  the  only  rational  one,  have 
no  more  power.  Even  those  who  maintain  boldly  that  religion 
and  Christianity  have  outlived  themselves,  and  are  overcome 
by  modern  culture,  speak  more  favorably  and  reasonably  of 
earlier  religious  conditions  than  did  the  illuminists.  They  admit, 
at  least,  that  what  they  consider  insufficient  for  our  day  was 
all-important  for  that  time,  yea,  that  it  had  its  perfect  his- 
torical right.  They  acknowledge  the  services  of  the  old  theolo- 


INCREASED  THOROUGHNESS  IN  ALL  DEPARTMENTS.  375 

gians,  of  the  Middle  Ages,  of  Luther  and  his  times,  of  Pietism, 
and  Mysticism,  though  they  deprived  these  phenomena  of  the 
right  of  a  continued  existence.  Clearly,  nature  and  art, 
history  and  science,  are  now  viewed  from  a  more  intellectual 
point  of  view,  and  with  more  living  eyes,  than  formerly. 
Every  one,  for  example,  who  would  now  wish  to  prove,  with 
petty  and  pedantic  calculation,  why  nature  must  produce  this  or 
that  order  of  creatures  in  a  fixed  number,  why  the  greatest 
result  is  effected  from  this  or  that  small  accidental  cause,  or, 
with  Campe,  could  see  in  art  a  breadless  art,  and  in  poetry 
only  a  luxury  of  language,  would  become  an  object  of  ridicule 
to  both  the  pious  and  the  irreligious. 

Language  has  made  infinite  gain,  and  fullness  and  flexibility 
of  thought  have  increased.  Of  course,  words  must  still  con- 
ceal many  a  weakness,  gilding  over  many  a  thing  which  can 
not  stand  the  test  of  proof;  and,  as  Schiller  once  said  that 
"  language  makes  poetry  for  us,"  so  now  it  can  be  affirmed  that 
it  philosophizes  for  us.  And  yet  no  one  wishes  it  to  be  said 
of  him,  that  he  speaks  of  matters  which  he  has  not  examined, 
that  he  cannot  distinguish  things;  and  even  if  there  is  an 
intrusion  of  much  that  is  superficial  and  doubtful,  there  is 
at  least  a  disposition  to  save  the  appearance  of  thoroughness, 
while  formerly, — for  example,  at  the  time  of  Bahrdt  and 
Basedow, — ignorance  was  unblushing,  and  boasted  of  gifted 
impudence.  But  those  who  stand  at  the  head  of  the  negative 
movement  have  more  than  an  appearance  of  profundity;  they 
have  a  sound  and  exact  knowledge  of  particulars.  In  a  word, 
culture  is  so  very  wide-spread  that  the  individual  cannot 
mislead  the  multitude  by  hasty  notions  and  fancies,  and  check 
the  course  of  inquiry.  Study  and  labor  are  now  required  of 
everybody,  whether  friend  or  foe.  Whoever  would  build  up 
or  tear  down  must  at  least  put  himself  to  some  trouble;  he 
must  command  the  respect  of  his  opponent  by  science,  and 
prove  his  fitness ;  otherwise  he  will  not  be  permitted  to  take 
part  in  the  conflict. 

This  takes  place  also  in  theology.  Every  one  who  is  ac- 
quainted with  recent  theology  will  agree  with  me,  that  far 
more  is  demanded  of  a  young  candidate  in  our  day  than  was 


376 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


the  case  twenty  or  thirty  years  ago.  The  earlier  Rationalism 
had  reduced  the  amount  necessary  to  be  appropriated  from 
the  Bible,1  church  history  and  dogmatics,  because  it  regarded 
this  apparatus  as  superfluous,  and  held  that  everything  might  be 
deduced  from  reason  and  only  connected  with  certain  passages 
in  the  Bible;  while  erring  Pietism  had  interpreted  in  favor  of 
ignorance  the  sentiment,  that  "to  love  Christ  is  better  than 
all  knowledge."  But  the  science  of  our  day,  whatever  be  its 
theological  view,  demands  a  solid  exegetical,  historical  and 
philosophical  education.  The  theologian  must  know  everything 
in  his  department,  trace  it  back  to  its  historical  origin,  and 
know  how  to  analyze  it.  While  the  former  expositors  of  the 
Bible  on  both  sides  made  the  mistake  of  seeking  their  own 
opinions  in  the  Scriptures,  and  displayed  their  art  in  twisting 
this  and  that  passage  to  favor  their  own  system,  later  theo- 
logical science  has  broken  loose  from  this  reprehensible  use 
of  Scripture,  and  aims  at  an  explanation  as  independent  as 
possible  of  personal  opinions.  Thus,  for  example,  the  natural 
explanation  of  miracles  has  lost  cast  for  ever;  and  Strauss 
has  done  the  most  to  represent  it  in  its  ridiculous  and  un- 
tenable character,  and  to  make  its  restoration  impossible. 

But  the  study  of  the  Bible  in  the  last  decades  has  not  only 
gained  in  impartiality,  but  in  freshness  and  interest.  How 
very  different  are  a  Pauline  epistle  and  the  Gospel  of  John 
now  explained  at  the  universities  from  what  they  were  a  quarter 
of  a  century  ago!  About  that  time  vitality  began  to  appear, 
and  since  then  there  have  sprung  up  a  vigor  and  emulation 
in  Scriptural  study,  which,  in  spite  of  occasional  errors,  are 
truly  gratifying.  There  is  no  more  a  disposition  to  explain 
meagerly  the  written  letter,  but  to  penetrate  the  inmost  depths 
of  the  Biblical  writer's  soul,  and  by  them  to  understand  him. 
The  impression  which  Herder  made  in  this  direction  more 
than  half  a  century  ago,  now  began  first  to  be  of  general 
influence,  and  to  be  followed  with  greater  results,  as  the  other 

1  According  to  Kant,  the  latter  is  distinguished  from  the  former  by 
its  positive  learning.  Yet,  as  Hegel  has  very  justly  charged  it,  this  was 
often  dead  and  disconnected. 


NEW  LIFE  IMPARTED  TO  CHURCH  HISTORY.  377 

means  of  interpretation  had  been  increased  and  purified  since 
his  time.1 

While  at  the  time  of  illuminism,  church  history  was  regarded 
as  a  history  of  human  folly,  as  a  collection  of  anecdotes  for 
the  amusement  of  enlightened  heads,  now  the  force  and  in- 
spiration of  the  Christian  spirit  began  to  be  observed  in 
single  periods.  Men  began  to  see  behind  the  strange  forms 
a  life  which  should  not  be  strange  to  us ;  and  though  at  first 
some  surprise  was  expressed  when  Neander  declared  the  task 
of  the  church  historian  to  be  "the  representation  of  the 
history  of  the  church  of  Christ  as  an  eloquent  proof  of  the 
divine  power  of  Christianity,  as  a  school  of  Christian  ex- 
perience, as  a  voice  of  edification  resounding  through  all 
centuries,  and  a  voice  of  culture,  doctrine  and  warning  for 
all  who  are  willing  to  hear;"  and  though  this  language  was 
declared  to  be  Pietistic,  yet  Neander's  method  of  viewing 
history  soon  gained  the  upper  hand. 

Even  in  history  men  had  grown  tired  of  the  so  called 
pragmatism,  which  explains  events  by  abstract  generalities. 
There  was  once  more  a  desire  for  the  concrete,  the  vital, 
the  glowing,  and  the  aromatic.  The  taste  for  special  historical 
studies  was  now  cultivated  with  unparalleled  fervor.  The 
lives  of  worthy  men  and  distinguished  lights  in  the  church 
were  portrayed  with  love  and  candor.  Their  thinking,  their 
inclinations,  and  even  their  weaknesses  were  studied.  Men 
placed  themselves  with  the  spirit  of  self-denial  in  the  midst 
of  the  very  time  in  which  they  lived;  consequently,  in  place 
of  a  dry  narration  of  facts,  there  entered  a  living  represen- 
tation, in  which  light  and  shade  were  tastefully  distributed, 
as  in  a  good  picture.  A  new  interest  arose  in  the  monuments 
of  Christian  art  and  customs;  more  than  mere  masses  of 
stones  were  again  seen  in  ecclesiastical  edifices,  and  as  a 
taste  for  symbol  and  profundity  began  to  develop  itself,  so 
did  men  begin  to  perceive  behind  the  dogmas  of  the  church 

1  This  was  also  the  case  in  the  sphere  of  linguistic  and  classical 
science.  Crenzer's  Symbolik  created  a  totally  different  view  of  mythology, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  great  reform  introduced  into  philology  by  F. 
A.  Wolf. 


378 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


a  deep  meaning,  where  only  nonsense  had  been  earlier 
imagined.  Special  attention  was  now  bestowed  upon  the  old 
hymns,  and  while  in  1780  and  1790  rhyming  prose  was  sub- 
stituted for  poetry,  there  arose  after  1830  a  great  and  ever 
increasing  discontent  with  what  had  been  derived  from  the 
earlier  period.  Now  the  old  hymns  were  adopted,  and  in 
some  cases  with  extreme  partiality.  Whoever  will  compare 
the  improvement  in  the  hymn  books  of  our  time  with  those 
of  1780  and  1790,  will  clearly  see  wrhat  a  different  spirit  now 
pervades  them. 

Preaching,  too,  was  very  different.  The  stiff  logical  regu- 
larity which  was  so  highly  valued  in  Reinhard's  time,  was 
compelled  to  give  way  to  greater  variety  of  forms  and  a  freer 
flow  of  feelings.  The  most  different  modes  of  preaching  pre- 
vailed simultaneously.  While  Schleiermacher  unfolded  to  his 
educated  readers,  in  close  succession  of  thought,  the  deep  views 
of  divine  life  with  a  peculiar  art  of  speech,1  Dräseke  sur- 
prised by  bold  imagery  and  flashes  of  thought;  others,  again, 
moved  the  masses  alienated  from  God  by  the  preaching  of 
repentance.  We  have  already  spoken  of  Harms1  preaching. 
His  bold  appeal  against  the  force  of  rules  was:  "We  must 
speak  with  tongues."  With  his  striving  for  originality  there 
were  much  ornament,  exaggeration,  untruth,  as  with  the  talented 
F.  Krummacher  and  many  other  preachers  of  recent  date. 
Yet  it  cannot  be  denied  that  the  progress  which  the  German 
language  had  made  through  its  poets,  exerted  a  beneficial  effect 
on  sacred  eloquence,  in  whose  productions  it  is  easy  to  trace 
also  the  influence  of  the  classics  and  of  Romanticism. 

If  we  now  ask  how  these  sermons  were  received  by  the 

1  On  Schleiermacher's  style  of  preaching,  compare  the  work  of  Al. 
Schweizer,  Darstellung  Schleiermacher's  als  Prediger.  Also  "W.  von  Hum- 
boldt, Briefe  an  eine  Freundin,  Vol.  II.  p.  258:  "People  were  unjust 
enough  to  call  that  eloquence  which  distinguished  Schleiermacher  as  a 
preacher,  because  it  was  a  freedom  from  all  art.  His  power  lay  in  his 
so  speaking  as  to  penetrate  the  heart;  it  was  the  convicting,  piercing, 
ravishing  outflow  of  his  feeling,  which  was  not  so  much  illuminated  by 
the  most  extraordinary  intellect  as  it  was  the  spontaneous  outflow  of 
the  heart." 


THE  RECENT  PERIOD  SUPERIOR  TO  THAT  OF  RATIONALISM.  379 

congregations,  we  shall  learn  that,  notwithstanding  all  the 
complaints  at  the  worldliness  of  that  time,  in  the  later  period 
the  churches  in  the  larger  cities,  which  were  empty  during 
the  Revolution  and  the  French  domination,  were  filled  with 
persons  of  the  higher  and  cultivated  classes.  Thus  we  see 
a  greater  interest  in  ecclesiastical  life  during  the  last  decades. 
Worship  and  church  polity,  things  about  which  there  was  no 
interest  whatever  at  the  time  of  illuminism,  and  were  left  to 
go  to  ruin,  once  more  became  subjects  of  general  interest. 
Schleiermacher  contributed  his  share  toward  effecting  this 
improvement.  While  at  the  time  of  Rationalism  attendance  at 
church  was  only  regarded  as  respect  for  the  preacher,  all  the 
rest  —  singing,  prayer  and  the  Lord's  Supper — was  considered 
merely  secondary,  and  only  designed  for  the  weak.  Indeed,  while 
it  was  boldly  acknowledged  that  the  educated  attended  church 
merely  for  the  sake  of  example,  and  while  ministers  dared  to 
recommend  it  only  on  this  account,  it  was  now  found  that 
man  had  other  necessities  than  simply  to  instruct  and  divert 
himself;  that  he  needs  edification  for  his  soul,  for  the  welfare 
of  his  own  inner  life,  and  that  this  can  be  firmly  supported 
and  vitally  expressed  only  in  the  fellowship  of  believers. 
Even  Hegel  declared  that  worship  was  the  highest  deed  of 
the  human  spirit, — which,  indeed,  the  disciples  of  the  Left 
refer  to  the  worship  of  their  genius. 

Both  clergy  and  laity  became  interested  in  the  constitution 
and  regulation  of  the  external  affairs  of  the  church.  While 
during  the  Rationalistic  period  the  territorial  system  predomi- 
nated,— a  system  by  which  the  affairs  of  the  church,  like 
those  of  justice,  police  and  finance,  came  under  the  authority 
of  the  state, — because  ministers  were  to  some  extent  regarded 
as  moral  policemen,  as  officers  of  public  morality,  it  was  now 
again  remembered  that  Christ  did  not  found  his  church  by 
a  cabinet  order  proceeding  from  the  Emperor  Augustus  or 
King  Herod,  and  that  the  Apostles  did  not  preach  on  account 
of  the  government,  though  they  counseled  obedience  to  civil 
authority,  but  that  the  church  was  free  down  to  the  time  of 
Constantine,  regulating  its  own  affairs,  and  relying  on  no  other 
power  than  the  energy  of  the  Holy  Spirit — the  original  vital 

Vol.  IL— 25 


380 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


power  of  the  church.  Men  looked  upon  the  United  States, 
where  the  church  is  freely  developed,  without  the  support  and 
the  confinement  of  the  state. 

Yet  it  was  very  justly  objected  by  others  that  the  times 
had  changed,  that  it  belonged  to  Christianity  not  to  remain 
a  sect,  or  to  divide  into  a  multitude  of  sects,  as  in  the  United 
States,  but  rather  to  penetrate  with  its  living  breath  the  life 
of  the  state  and  of  the  people,  and  that  therefore  a  free 
activity  of  the  church  in  the  state  is  certainly  more  advan- 
tageous than  their  violent  and  unnatural  separation.  Indeed, 
the  Christian  state  (very  different  from  the  state  police-church) 
was  designated  by  Hegel's  philosophy  as  the  only  rational 
and  real  state.  Opinions  may  differ  on  this  subject  down  to 
the  present  day;  yet  the  fact  that  many  reflected  on  the 
relations  of  church  and  state,  and  thought  the  subject  worthy 
of  their  pains,  is  an  eloquent  and  cheering  sign.  But  men 
did  not  stop  with  theories.  In  many  parts  of  Germany 
an  ecclesiastical  life  was  marked  out  by  the  introduction 
and  regulation  of  synods,  as  in  the  Khenish  provinces  of 
Prussia,  and  in  Baden.  Attempts  were  at  least  made  in  other 
countries  to  promote  ecclesiastical  life  in  the  congregations, 
by  means  of  church  discipline  and  the  introduction  of  church 
officers.  In  this  department,  too,  Schleiermacher  took  the 
lead  with  his  organizing  mind. 

But  not  only  in  the  department  of  the  church,  so  far  as 
this  was  limited  by  definite  territorial  boundaries,  but  also  in 
the  broad  sphere  of  Christian  life  and  work, — in  what  is 
called  the  kingdom  of  God,  in  distinction  from  all  human 
limitation, — we  notice  in  the  last  decades  a  great  movement, 
an  activity,  zeal  and  self-sacrifice  which  we  find  nowhere 
else  in  the  whole  history  of  Protestantism.  While  formerly  it 
seemed,  with  few  exceptions,  to  be  reserved  for  only  Pietism, 
Methodism,  and  the  Moravians  to  preach  Christianity  to  the 
heathen,  to  spread  the  Bible  and  Christian  knowledge  among 
the  masses,  and  to  found  institutions  for  Christian  training 
and  beneficence,  and  while,  with  these  efforts  something 
similar  was  attempted  by  philanthropinism  from  its  standpoint, 
we  find  that  now  the  truly  Christian  spirit,  which  is  divine 


RECENT  INCREASE  OF  CHRISTIAN  POWER.  381 

as  well  as  human,  attempted  to  mark  out  more  and  more  a 
course  for  itself,  to  overcome  prejudice,  and  to  introduce  a 
practical  unity  of  spirit,  where  it  was  utterly  impossible  on 
the  basis  of  the  written  letter.  Thus  the  missionary  and  the 
Bible  societies,  which  first  became  domesticated  on  the  Con- 
tinent after  the  second  decade  of  the  present  century,  have 
actually  accomplished  that  union  for  which  men  had  so  long 
exercised  their  brains;1  and  thus  men  have  assisted  each 
other  to  perform  Christian  works  of  love  on  the  ground  of 
evangelical  sentiment,  and  those  have  extended  to  each  other 
the  fraternal  hand  who  stood  far  apart  in  doctrinal  opinions. 
Christianity  and  philanthropinism,  which  were  at  first  hostile 
to  each  other,  now  came  together.  Thus,  for  example,  the 
good  element  of  Pestalozzis  method  was  introduced  into 
those  institutions  for  training,  and  into  schools  for  the  poor, 
which  had  stood  on  a  positive  Christian  basis. 

But  if  one  say  that  this  wide-spread  and  continually  in- 
creasing activity  is  Pietistic,  and  controlled  by  Pietistic  prin- 
ciples, he  must  at  least  confess  that  Pietism  is  still  a  poiver 
in  our  day,  which  feels  and  makes  itself  felt,  and  which  will 
not  soon  retire,  and  leave  the  field  to  liberalism,  communism, 
and  the  like.  It  must  at  least  be  granted,  that  the  positive 
power  of  Christianity  balances  the  negative,  though  we  cannot 
suppress  the  wish  that  between  those  who  desire  the  advance- 
ment of  the  good  and  true  in  Protestantism,  and  at  the  same 
time  its  light  and  strength,  there  might  be  a  more  pervasive 
and  general  understanding  than  heretofore.  We  cannot  relin- 
quish this  hope,  and  quietly  fold  our  hands,  however  checkered 
and  forbidding  the  prospect  sometimes  may  be.  Fortunately, 
that  which  excites  the  attention  of  scholars  and  assumes  a 
systematic  form,  is  not  always  the  support  of  the  church. 
But  it  is  the  Spirit,  that  blows  how  and  where  it  will,  pre- 
paring its  instruments  in  a  thousand  ways, — that  Spirit  which 

1  Unfortunately  this  praise  must  be  limited  in  the  most  recent  time, 
when  blind  confessional  ignorance  threatens  to  destroy  the  beautiful 
work  of  harmony.  (Note  in  Ed.  of  1819).  It  would  be  necessary  to 
write  a  special  work  on  what  would  now  be  proper  to  say.  Comp. 
Bunsen's  Zeichen  der  Zeit. 


382 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


often  appears  most  powerful  in  those  who  appear  weak  in 
the  estimation  of  the  world.  We  must  not  forget  that  the 
power  of  faith,  as  Luther  possessed  it,  has  often  manifested 
itself  in  a  quiet  and  humble  sphere  of  labor,  and  has  given 
proof  of  the  Gospel  spirit. 

In  order  to  conclude  the  present  lecture  with  a  living, 
personal  impression,  we  will  leave  the  intricacies  of  the  Hegel- 
ian philosophy,  where  we  commenced  it,  and  catch  a  breath 
of  the  pure,  fresh  air.  We  pass  into  a  solitary  vale,  wild 
by  nature  but  improved  by  the  hands  of  man.  We  see  a 
plain  figure,  one  of  God's  worthiest  priests.  If  it  would  not 
be  unprotestant,  we  would  call  him,  as  a  certain  Protestant 
writer,  Hase,  has  done,  "a  saint  of  his  church."1  We  mean 
Pastor  Oberlin,  of  the  Steinthal.  He  is  well  known  to  you 
all,  and  therefore  I  will  only  remind  you  of  him  by  recalling 
his  image.  From  the  larger  and  smaller  accounts  of  his  life, 
by  Stoeber  and  Schubert,  we  learn  the  following  facts.  The 
son  of  a  Strasburg  scholar,  he  was  born  in  the  year  1740, 
and  received  a  careful  Christian  training.  With  the  firm  con- 
fidence of  a  disciple  and  apostle  of  Christ,  he  became  pastor 
of  Waldbach  in  the  year  1767.  He  trod  in  the  footsteps  of 
a  worthy  predecessor,  and  communed  with  the  noble  friends 
of  humanity  whom  he  found  in  that  desolate  place,  which, 
though  he  did  not  convert  into  a  paradise,  he  did  transform 
into  a  friendly  dwelling-place  of  industrious  men,  in  whose 
hearts  and  families  he  supplanted  roughness  of  sentiment 
and  indolent  habits  by  steady  and  active  Christianity. 

When  we  behold  this  apostolic  man  become  a  pattern  of 
self-denial,  self-conquest  and  trust  in  God,  of  a  mild  and 
peaceful  heroism,  yet  always  subjecting  himself  to  the  laws 
of  God  and  man;  when  we  meet  him  in  the  storms  of 
revolution,  preserving  with  prudence  and  determination,  amid 
fanatics  and  revolutionists,  a  Johannean  spirit,  which  com- 
pelled their  respect;  when  we  find  him,  finally,  in  his  extreme 
old  age  active  in  the  service  of  his  master,  until  called  to 
heaven  in  the  year  1825,  we  cannot  longer  doubt  the  power 
of  the  religious  spirit  which,  in  the  midst  of  devastating 

1  Kirchengeschichte,  4th  Ed.  p.  513. 


PASTOR  OBERLIN  OF  THE  STEINTHAL. 


383 


forces,  bears  an  eloquent  witness  for  the  church,  in  which 
find  for  which  this  power  was  active.  It  is  very  apparent  in 
Oberlin's  case,  how  such  demands  of  time,  as  were  expressed 
in  philanthropinism,  were  first  safely  and  permanently  realized 
in  practical  Christianity.  How  often  was  it  declared  at  the 
time  when  Sebaldus  Nothanker  was  written,  and  very  much 
was  said  of  the  usefulness  of  the  ministerial  office,  that  the 
pastor  must  also  understand  agriculture,  and  aid  his  peasants 
in  a  secular  way,  if  he  would  ennoble  them  morally,  and  win 
them  to  the  reception  of  divine  truth!  But  these  ideals  of 
the  preacher  remained  on  philanthropinic  paper,  and  became 
only  waste  paper,  without  being  transformed  into  flesh  and 
blood. 

Oberlin  did  the  one  without  leaving  the  other  undone. 
He  gave  heavenly  and  earthly  instruction  at  the  same  time, 
and  united  the  two.  The  "pray  and  labor"  was  not  some- 
thing disjointed,  but  united,  and  therefore  blessed.  The  same 
was  the  case  with  ecclesiastical  union.  Not  only  did  the  dif- 
ference between  the  Reformed  and  the  Lutheran  confessions 
vanish  here  completely,  but  even  Catholics  attended  Oberlin's 
preaching,  and  he  himself  declared  to  a  Catholic  nobleman, 
that  to  him  every  Christian  was  welcome  who  believed  in  our 
natural  depravity  and  in  the  necessity  of  our  return  to  God. 
It  was  on  the  positive  ground  of  this  faith,  and  not  on  the 
negative  basis  of  indifference,  that  he  believed  in"  union,  and 
therefore  even  Catholic  Christians  could  go  to  his  grave  and 
remember  him  in  love.  Oberlin's  life  reminds  us  sometimes  of 
Lavater  and  Stilling,  for  we  find  in  it  remarkable,  wonderful, 
and  peculiar  elements.  But  remarkable  men  can  also  be 
peculiar,  and,  for  the  sake  of  the  wonders  which  they  accom- 
plish, we  can  receive  that  remarkable  element  which  is  at- 
tached to  the  mortal  and  corruptible  man. 

For  this  reason,  gifts  are  differently  distributed.  While  some 
stand  out  upon  the  philosophic  observatory,  and  often  wait 
long  in  vain  for  the  star  which  is  to  lead  them  to  worship 
the  Savior  of  the  world,  others  do  with  simplicity  what  the 
good  angel  teaches  them.  An  adherent  of  Hegel's  philosophy,1 

1  Mager,  Brief  an  eine  Dame  über  d.  Hegel.  Philos.  Berlin,  1837. 


384 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


who  has  attempted  to  make  it  comprehensible  to  women,  has 
confessed  that  philosophy  is  only  a  barometer, — that  it  does  not 
make  the  weather,  but  only  indicates  it.  Practical  Christians 
also  do  not  make  the  weather;  but  they  do  not  simply  ob- 
serve it,  as  the  philosophers  do,  for  sowing,  plowing  and 
gathering.  They  do  not  shun  the  heat  of  the  day,  and  truly 
their  reward  is  not  less  than  that  of  the  philosophers.  But 
the  weather  brings  growth  and  prosperity,  which  alone  give 
what  no  philosophy  can  furnish — a  new  heart,  and  a  con- 
scientious and  joyous  spirit.  He  who  has  these  can  be  com- 
forted, in  spite  of  the  mazes  through  which  the  church  must 
yet  pass.  He  is  true  who  has  called  us,  and  He  it  is  who 
will  perform. 


LECTURE  XIX. 


ON  PROTESTANTISM  OUTSIDE  OF  GERMANY '.  IN  HOLLAND,  DEN- 
MARK, SWEDEN,  NORWAY.  —  ENGLAND '.  METHODISM  AND  ITS 
PERVERSIONS.  —  THE  JUMPERS,  SHAKERS,  SOUTHCOTTIANS, 
AND  OTHER  SECTS.  —  IRVING  AND  THE  IRVINGITES.  —  THE 
ANGLICAN  CHURCH.  —  THE  BISHOPRIC  OF  JERUSALEM. — 
PUSEYISM. — FRANCE:  GUIZOT  AND  COQUEREL.  —  THE  GENE- 
VAN CHURCH.  —  THE  MOMIERS.  —  GERMAN  SWITZERLAND: 
ZÜRICH,  SCHAFFHAUSEN,  BERNE,  BASLE.  —  THE  HOURS  OF 
DEVOTION,  AND  MADAME  KRUDENER.  —  SWISS  SECTARIAN- 
ISM.—  THE  WILDENSPUCHERS,  ANTONIANS,  AND  NEW  BAP- 
TISTS.—  THE  QUARRELS  ABOUT  STRAUSS.  —  GENERAL  RETRO- 
SPECT. — PROSPECT. 

We  have  now  pursued  the  history  of  the  development  of 
evangelical  Protestantism  down  to  the  present,  and  could  have 
concluded  our  series  of  lectures  with  the  last,  if  we  had  been 
concerned  with  German  Protestantism  alone,  and  did  not  have 
to  ask,  how  matters  have  been  going  on  elsewhere  in  the  Prot- 
estant world,  and  how  other  nations  have  been  influencing  Ger- 
many. We  have  purposely  treated  of  the  German  church  first, 
and  in  such  detail  that  what  remains  to  be  said  is  only  a  neces- 
sary appendage;  for  German  Protestantism  is  not  only  more 
intimately  related  to  us  in  a  popular  view  than  that  of  France, 
England  and  Holland,  but  in  Germany  alone  has  Protestant 
theology  undergone  a  vital  development,  and  either  drawn 
other  countries  into  its  process  or  left  them  far  behind  it. 
Tf,  however,  it  were  only  for  the  sake  of  the  comparison,  we 
could  not  overlook  other  Protestant  lands,  for  in  some  of 


386 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


them,  as  in  England,  practical  Christian  life  has  assumed  a 
new  form,  such  as  was  not  possible  under  existing  circum- 
stances in  Germany. 

Of  the  non-German  nations,  the  history  of  theological 
development  in  Holland  and  Denmark  has  the  most  in  com- 
mon with  Germany,  and  is  best  known  to  the  Germans. 
Dutch  theology  has  many  points  of  resemblance  to  English 
theology,  in  so  far  as  we  observe  in  the  works  of  its  scholars 
a  quiet  and  learned  research  on  the  secure  basis  of  historical 
facts.  Yet  this  observation  is  more  applicable  to  the  earlier 
than  the  later  period.  Most  recently  the  church  of  Holland  has 
been  more  interested  in  the  movements  of  German  theologians 
than  England  has  been,  and  by  this  means  a  movement  has 
been  called  forth  concerning  which  we  must  say  a  word.1 

Down  to  the  year  1795  the  Reformed  church  of  Holland 
wTas  predominant,  and  preserved  the  rigid  forms  of  the  doc- 
trines of  Dort  (1618).  The  Remonstrants,  with  the  Lutherans, 
Catholics  and  Mennonites,  were  far  in  the  minority.  This 
condition  of  things  was  changed  after  the  French  domination 
in  Holland,  and  by  the  establishment  of  the  Batavian  Republic. 
The  separation  of  state  and  church  led  to  a  great  many  evils; 
but  on  the  whole  it  was  attended  by  a  more  unfettered  develop- 
ment of  the  latter.  That  bondage  of  the  teachers  to  the 
letter  of  the  doctrines  of  Dort  ceased,  and  the  mind  began  to 
think  more  freely.  Innovations  in  divine  service  were  produced 
by  the  hymn-book,  which,  though  only  designed  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  a  mere  psalm-book,  yet  created  great  opposition.  A 
committee,  nominated  by  the  king,  established  in  1815  a 
general  regulation  for  the  constitution  of  the  Reformed  church 
in  the  kingdom  of  the  Netherlands,  by  virtue  of  which  a 
general  synod  should  convene,  in  order  to  arrange  the  course 
and  decision  of  ecclesiastical  matters  in  the  simplest  and 
most  impartial  way.  This  synod  should,  further,  lay  down  a 
more  appropriate  form  for  the  examination  of  candidates. 

1  "We  follow  here  Gieseler:  Die  Unruhen  in  der  niederländisch-reformir- 
ten  Kirche  während  der  Jahre  1833 — 39.  Hamburg,  1840.  Compare  the 
Kirchenblatt  der  reformirten  Schweiz  (.1855,  Nos.  13  and  14),  and  Gelzer's 
Protestantische  Monatsblätter  (1854,  Oct.  No.). 


PROTESTANTISM  IN  HOLLAND:  BILDERDYK.  387 

The  spirit  of  moderation  and  toleration  distinguished  these 
regulations,  and  the  principles  were  almost  universally  ap- 
proved during  the  first  seventeen  years,  1816 — 1833.  The 
old  sharp  divisions  between  the  confessions  seemed  to  dis- 
appear; Reformed  ministers  preached  in  the  churches  of 
Lutherans,  Mennonites  and  Remonstrants,  while  some  of  the 
latter  officiated  in  the  churches  of  the  Reformed,  and  a  spirit 
of  unity  seemed  to  have  become  already  so  strong  that  there 
even  arose  a  wish  on  all  sides  for  an  exterior  unity  of  all 
Protestant  sects  into  one  ecclesiastical  communion.  A  cautious 
preacher  exclaimed  to  the  hasty  ones,  "  hasten  slowly,"  and 
it  soon  became  apparent  that  everybody  was  not  contented 
with  the  new  institutions.  Possibly,  the  original  moderation 
might  lead  to  Rationalism,  as  in  Germany,  and  thereby  pro- 
duce a  reaction.  It  is  enough  to  know,  that  orthodoxy  had 
its  warm  defenders.  Even  in  the  year  1819  the  recollection 
of  the  old  doctrines  of  Dort,  introduced  two  hundred  years 
previously,  was  renewed  in  expressive  language,  and  after 
1823  a  regular  opposition  took  shape,  which  went  so  far  that, 
in  ten  years,  it  had  the  spirit  to  wage  a  warfare  of  life  and 
death  against  the  new  order  of  things. 

At  the  head  of  this  opposition  there  stood  a  fervent  and 
vigorous  man,  the  poet  William  Bilderdyk,  who  aimed,  by  the 
renewal  of  the  old  Calvinistic  orthodoxy,  to  bring  prosperity 
to  that  people  which  lay  so  near  his  heart.  Political  ad- 
herence to  the  House  of  Orange  had  much  to  do  with  his 
theological  convictions,  and  he  exhibited  in  other  questions  a 
certain  radicalism.  His  condemnation  of  the  Remonstrants 
and  Socinians  met  with  no  favor  from  the  majority  of  the 
theologians,  but  only  from  certain  law-students,  whose  sym- 
pathy was  purely  political.  But  two  Israelitish  young  men, 
who  had  been  converted  to  Christianity  through  Bilderdyk, 
entered  into  the  footsteps  of  their  leader,  who,  with  them, 
declared  himself  an  admirer  of  the  mystical,  cabbalistic  theol- 
ogy and  philosophy,  with  which  he  designed  to  supplant  the 
cold  and  negative  Arminianism  which,  in  the  church  of  Hol- 
land, had  taken  the  place  of  German  Rationalism.  It  was 
impossible  to  prevent  other  young  men  being  attracted  by 


388 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


the  movement.  But  they  did  not  adhere  to  harmless  Mysti- 
cism. The  same  reproaches  of  decline  from  the  pure  doc- 
trine of  the  church  which  had  been  charged  by  the  young 
theological  brood  of  Germany  upon  the  veteran  leaders  of  the 
church,  were  also  heard  here.  A  young  clergyman,  Henry  de 
Cock,  became  champion  of  the  party.  By  his  arbitrary 
violation  of  the  traditional  ecclesiastical  order,  and  by  his 
immoderate  zeal,  he  was  suspended,  and  finally  deposed  in 
1834.  His  treatment  increased  his  reputation,  and  a  large 
congregation  gathered  around  him  at  Ulrum.  In  October  of 
the  same  year  they  signed  an  act  of  separation,  by  which 
they  disconnected  themselves  from  the  prevailing  church,  and 
appealed  for  justification  to  a  large  number  of  Scriptural 
passages.  Their  example  was  followed  by  only  a  few  preachers, 
but  by  all  the  more  laymen.  From  this  arose  further  con- 
troversies. The  separatists  were  treated  as  a  sect,  charged 
with  obstinacy,  and  punished  for  unlawful  meetings,  until  they 
finally  obtained  the  privilege  of  organizing  a  separate  church, 
with  their  own  laws,  as  had  been  the  case  in  the  year  1818 
with  the  congregation  at  Kornthal,  in  Wiirtemberg. 

In  Denmark  we  also  perceive  a  conflict  between  Ration- 
alism and  Supernaturalism.  A  popular  poet  and  historian, 
Pastor  Grundtvig,  opposed,  with  all  the  power  of  his  eloquence, 
the  so-called  neology,  which  had  been  introduced  into  Denmark 
nineteen  years  previously,  while  the  skeptical  tendency  found 
a  fitting  champion  in  Professor  Clausen  of  Copenhagen.1 
The  matter  ripened  into  public  charges  and  judicial  proceed- 
ings, when  Grundtvig  finally  received  permission,  in  1832,  to 
hold  public  service. 

At  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  and  the  beginning  of  the  nine- 
teenth centuries,  a  powerful  religious  awakening  arose  in 
Sweden  and  Norway,  similar  to  that  which  had  arisen  in  Eng- 
land in  the  seventeenth  century  by  the  instrumentality  of  Fox, 
Nielsen  Hauge  (born  1771),  the  son  of  a  peasant,  had  ex- 
hibited from  early  childhood  a  propensity  for  religious  con- 

1  For  further  particulars  (from  the  Grundtvig  point  of  view)  see  the 
Eoang.  Kztg.,  1827:  No.  51  ff . ;  1828:  No.  55  ffi,  62  ff.;  1830:  No.  5  ff.; 
1831:  No.  69  ff.,  73  ff.;   1832:  No.  49  ff. 


SWEDEN  AND  NORWAY  I   NIELSEN  HAUGE.  389 

templation,  which  was  slightly  removed  from  gloomy  fanati- 
cism.1 He  had  even  been  tempted  to  commit  suicide,  but 
was  dissuaded  by  a  better  spirit.  In  his  twenty-fourth  year, 
while  laboring  in  the  field  and  singing  hymns,  he  felt  himself 
pervaded  by  a  peculiar  inner  joy.  He  knew  not  what  he  was 
about.  He  ever  after  celebrated  that  hour  as  the- time  of  his 
birth  into  eternal  life.  He  now  felt  himself  called  to  appear 
as  an  apostle.  He  preached  powerfully,  and  received  great 
popular  support.  A  small  circle  of  adherents  gathered  about 
him,  but  in  the  year  1797  the  village  pastor  attempted  to 
disband  his  meetings.  Hange  was  thrown  into  prison.  Having 
been  released,  he  made  still  greater  efforts  to  promulgate  his 
doctrines.  He  traveled  far  and  wide,  so  that  he  extended 
his  evangelistic  journeys  from  the  south  of  Norway  to  Finn- 
marken. In  a  single  year  he  traveled  over  thirty-six  hundred 
miles.  Wherever  he  went,  throngs  gathered  about  him;  many 
were  awakened  to  new  life  by  his  instrumentality. 

The  extraordinary  effects,  in  which  there  was  often  a  morbid 
and  suspicious  element,  called  forth  persecution  from  his 
opponents.  The  other  sects  calumniated  him,  and  he  was 
even  charged  with  carnal  misdemeanors.  The  result  was, 
that  Hauge,  who  had  come  to  Denmark  in  1801,  was  again 
imprisoned,  in  1803,  and  criminal  proceedings  were  instituted 
against  him.  He  spent  four  years,  down  to  1807,2  in  a  damp 
prison.  His  writings  were  prohibited,  and  the  property  he 
had  acquired  when  a  merchant  in  Bergen  was  confiscated. 
Weakened  in  health,  he  withdrew  to  a  farm  near  Christiana, 
where  he  died  in  1824.  He  can  be  charged  with  a  one-sided 
enforcement  of  the  law  and  a  radical  preaching  of  repentance, 
which  absorbed  the  comforting  character  of  faith.  But  while 
his  adherents  were  hypocritical  and  melancholy,  he,  according 
to  the  testimony  of  his  son,  was  cheerful,  and  susceptible  of 
natural  impressions.   At  all  events,  a  germ  of  his  doctrine 

1  Comp,  the  communication  in  the  Basler  christl.  VoTksboten,  1847,  p. 
331  ff.,  and  Studien  und  ÄritiJcen,  1849,  in  which  much  in  the  older 
edition  is  corrected. 

2  According  to  others,  to  the  year  1815.  See  Hase,  Kirchengeschichte 
(6th  ed.),  p.  524. 


390 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


remained  in  Norway,  which  in  the  end  even  proved  an  ad- 
vantage to  the  church. 

We  find  another  phenomenon,  similar  to  Hauge's  career,  in 
the  so-called  Readers  of  Northern  Sweden,  a  society  of  Chris- 
tians who  had  spread  through  the  land  since  the  beginning 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  and  had  edified  themselves  and 
others  by  the  social  reading  of  the  Bible  and  Lutheran  ser- 
mons. But  they  yielded  more  and  more  to  an  unrestrained 
zeal  for  the  letter  of  the  Lutheran  doctrine,  and  finally  pro- 
nounced a  curse  on  ministers  and  laymen  who  would  not 
harmonize  with  them,  while  they  considered  themselves  in- 
fallible, and  maintained  that  their  sentiments  were  the  declara- 
tions of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Their  principal  doctrine  was  the 
pure  Lutheran  tenet  of  the  justification  of  man  by  faith 
without  the  works  of  the  law,  though  presented  with  an  excess 
and  literalness  calculated  to  introduce  many  misunderstandings, 
and  even  a  contrary  sentiment. 

We  now  come  to  England.  The  English  church  has  rep- 
resented, from  the  Reformation  down  to  the  present,  the 
traditional  antagonism  between  a  hierarchy  stiffened  by  forms 
and  a  Christianity  which  lays  aside  all  forms,  and  is  there- 
fore frequently  subjected  to  fanaticism.  The  theology  of  the 
Anglican  church  is  a  purely  traditional  and  dead  orthodoxy, 
which  does  not  permit  itself  to  be  opposed  by  any  philosophy, 
and  is  therefore  unable  to  pass  a  proper  opinion,  from  a 
correct  or  even  partially  correct  standpoint,  upon  the  philo- 
sophical and  religious  differences  of  opinion  in  Germany.  It 
knows  only  the  coarse  skepticism  of  its  Deists  or  a  rigid  ad- 
herence to  the  letter,  whether  it  be  its  own  creed  or  that  of 
some  alien  sect.  At  best,  it  presents  a  pale  picture  of  that 
exterior  softening  of  antagonisms  which  Latitudinarians  had 
attempted  to  introduce  at  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  and 
the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  centuries,  and  which  also 
took  place  in  Germany,  though  only  as  a  transition.  The 
positive  Anglican  mind,  which  well  understands  mercantile 
speculation,  the  science  of  steam  and  machinery,  has  not  the 
faintest  idea  of  an  intellectual  and  hearty  treatment  of  these 
antagonisms,  of  reconciliation  in  a  higher  sense,  of  that  which 


England:  the  high  church  and  dissenters.  391 

the  German  calls  speculation  and  dialectics.  This  is  proved, 
among  other  things,  by  the  coarse  attacks  of  English  writers 
on  German  theology.1 

Far  more  life  is  found  among  the  Dissenters  than  in  the 
High  Church.  But  even  the  former  do  not  always  exhibit  a 
desirable  theological  penetration  and  thorough  acquaintance 
with  science;  indeed,  in  real  learning  they  are  probably  in- 
ferior to  theologians  of  the  Establishment.  But  in  the  prac- 
tical department,  Methodism,  which  took  its  rise  in  the 
Established  church,  but  wrought  against  its  dead  formalism, 
has  done  great  service  for  the  elevation  of  religious  life  among 
the  people,  and,  in  connection  with  other  sects,  has  applied 
itself  to  missions.  This  is  the  bright  side  of  English  Protest- 
antism. Where  the  question  is  not  a  thorough  scientific 
conviction,  but  the  calling  into  existence  of  favorite  convictions, 
the  establishment  of  grand  associations,  the  adoption  of  quick 
and  energetic  measures,  the  collection  of  money,  and  the 
development  of  abundant  and  permanent  activity,  on  land  and 
sea,  the  English  knowledge  of  the  world  occupies  its  right 
place,  and  the  German,  with  all  his  metaphysical  sophistry, 
may  learn  that  God's  kingdom  does  not  depend  on  the  Kantian 
or  Hegelian  system,  but  on  sound  and  saving  forces.2 

What  we  have  already  introduced  upon  the  Continent  in 
this  respect,  has  been  derived  chiefly  from  England.  Societies 
for  the  distribution  of  Christian  knowledge  were  organized 
there  before  anything  important  had  been  effected  in  Germany. 
We  are  therefore  led  to  express  the  wish  anew,  that  Protest- 
antism would  gain  a  full  knowledge  of  all  the  various  powers 
committed  to  it,  in  order  that  they  may  be  universally  useful : 
that  Englishmen  would  learn  from  the  Germans  profound 

1  Rose,  Zustand  der  protestantischen  Religion  in  Deutschland.  Leipz.  182G. 

2  This  practical  sense  has  been  exhibited  particularly  since  1846,  in 
the  establishment  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance.  However,  the  doctrinal 
basis  of  the  Association,  —  to  which  a  thoroughly  literal  interpretation 
of  the  Scriptures  belongs,  —  is  hardly  of  such  a  character  as  German 
science,  even  the  most  orthodox,  can  appropriate.  —  On  the  present 
ecclesiastical  condition  of  England,  compare,  besides  other  works,  Gelzer's 
Monatsblätter ;  1854  (April  and  May). 


392 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


scientific  thoroughness,  but  that  the  Germans  would  learn  from 
the  English  the  practical  use  of  ideas.  So  long  as  this  mutual 
enlargement  does  not  exist,  the  manifestations  of  Protestant 
life  will  be  contracted  and  ineffective.  Thus  we  see  that 
Methodism,  with  all  its  practical  capacity,  has  its  obscure, 
morbid  and  repulsive  elements.  [Of  the  examples  here  adduced, 
only  one  was  in  the  least  connected  with  Methodism;  i.  e., 
the  Jumpers,  who  arose  in  Whitefield's  congregations  in  Wales, 
but  were  promptly  repudiated  by  the  Methodists].  And  of  these 
roughnesses  and  excrescences  of  religious  fanaticism  we  must 
now  speak. 

We  have  already  treated  the  foundation  and  first  propagation 
of  Methodism,  and  gave  some  examples  of  religious  excitement, 
which  gained  ground  and  strength  in  the  second  half  of  the 
last  century,  and  has  not  wholly  lost  it  in  the  nineteenth. 
It  reached  its  climax  about  the  year  1760  by  the  so-called 
Jumpers,  in  Cornwallis,  who,  by  a  convulsive  leaping  and 
dancing,  would  have  it  understood  that  they  were  impelled 
by  the  Holy  Spirit.  They  also  made  incoherent  remarks, 
something  like  a  violent  groaning.  Sometimes  this  became 
a  sort  of  bellowing,  in  which  case  those  who  performed  it 
were  called  Barkers.  They  justified  their  leaping  by  saying 
that  David  danced  before  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant.  This  sect 
transplanted  itself  to  North  America,  where  it  still  has  its 
members. 

Connected  with  these  are  the  Shakers,  who  went  out  from 
among  the  Quakers.  Ann  Lee,  the  daughter  of  a  Manchester 
blacksmith,  believing  that  she  was  inspired  by  the  Holy  Spirit, 
pronounced  lofty  revelations,  and  proclaimed  the  speedy  second 
coming  of  Christ.  Miracles  were  attributed  to  her,  and  soon 
many  people  from  the  lower  classes  gathered  about  her.  But 
having  been  interfered  with  by  the  authorities,  she  emigrated 
to  New  York  in  1774.  She  also  met  with  many  difficulties 
in  America,  until  she  founded,  in  connection  with  her  followers, 
the  colony  of  New  Lebanon.  She  died  in  1784,  but  her  sect 
still  exists.  Its  chief  doctrines  are  community  of  property, 
celibacy,  and  a  general  monastic  abstinence.  Its  service  is 
quite  similar  to  that  of  the  Quakers,  and  here,  too,  when  the 


JOANNA  SOUTHCOTT  AND  EDWARD  IRVING.  393 

Spirit  moves  upon  the  congregation,  the  people  begin  to  shake, 
and  to  break  out  into  a  convulsive  dance,  when  they  pray 
and  sing  until  they  faint. 

Joanna  Southcott  was  a  similar  fanatic,  who  imagined 
that  she  was  the  bride  of  the  Lamb  described  in  Revelation 
(xii.  1),  the  wife  of  the  sun,  and  the  one  who  was  to  bear 
the  Messiah.  She  began  her  prophecies  in  1801,  and  was 
soon  enabled  to  obtain  a  special  chapel  in  London  for  her 
service.  A  magnificent  cradle  stood  ready  for  the  new  Messiah. 
She  died  in  the  year  1814,  after  long  and  fruitless  waiting. 
Her  followers,  the  New  Israelites,  insisted  on  a  rigid  observ- 
ance of  Mosaic  law.  We  would  not  follow  the  history  of 
such  errors  further,  and  have  only  gone  thus  far  in  order  to 
prove  how  an  obscure  piety,  by  an  ignorant  use  of  the  Bible, 
can  be  led  into  the  most  dangerous  abysses,  and  how  such 
tendencies  arise  most  easily  where  there  is  not  a  sound  and 
discreet  development  of  doctrines. 

The  difficulty  of  distinguishing  the  spiritual  and  profound 
from  the  fanatical,  and  the  purely  Christian  from  the  gathering 
rust  of  human  delusion,  may  be  seen  in  the  career  of  a 
Presbyterian  minister  of  a  recent  date,  who  has  even  created 
quite  a  stir  upon  the  Continent.  Edward  Irving,1  the  son  of 
a  wealthy  tanner,  was  born  on  the  15th  of  August,  1792,  at 
Annan,  in  the  county  of  Dumfries,  Scotland.  He  appeared 
as  a  preacher  in  the  Caledonian  Church  in  London  in  1822, 
and  soon  enjoyed  remarkable  favor.  The  first  statesmen  of 
the  day,  among  whom  were  Canning  and  Brougham,  pressed 
their  wray  into  his  church.  Many  members  of  the  royal  family, 
and  it  is  said  the  crowned  heads  themselves,  soon  became  his 
auditors.  His  expression,  his  majestic  form  (for,  like  Saul, 
he  was  a  head  taller  than  other  people),  his  hair,  which 
rolled  back  in  heavy  locks,  his  sharp,  piercing  glance,  his 
melodious  voice,  his  play  of  countenance,  and  his  lively,  ex- 
pressive gesticulation — in  fact,  his  whole  method  of  preaching 
was  attractive  by  its  charm  of  novelty  and  originality. 
He  was  compared  by  some  to  Knox,  and  by  others  to  Luther. 

1  Comp.  Hohl's  work:  Bruchstücke  aus  dem  Leben  und  den  Schriften 
Ed.  Irvings.   St.  Gall,  1839. 


394 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH 


His  prophetic  fury,  his  fearless  dealing  with  all  antagonism, 
especially  all  temporal  grandeur  and  haughtiness,  his  decided 
political  liberalism,  united  with  a  rigid  and  Christian  discip- 
line and  Old  Testament  legality,  must  certainly  have  called 
to  mind  the  times  of  the  earlier  Puritans.  "I  daily  pray  to 
God,"  he  declared  in  one  of  his  sermons,  "that  he  would 
awaken  this  day  men  of  the  old  stamp,  who  will  unite  in 
themselves  those  two  blessed  qualities,  religion  and  freedom, 
which  have  been  so  unnaturally  separated." 

With  these  principles  Irving  returned  to  the  fundamental 
idea  of  Protestantism,  of  which  we  have  so  often  spoken,  but 
his  liberalism  was  of  a  narrow  political  character,  while  his 
piety  was  extremely  Puritanical  or  legal.  He  disclosed  the 
misery  of  the  popular  classes  of  England  with  great  eloquence. 
"  It  is  sad,"  said  he,  "  to  see  so  many  noble,  immortal  human 
souls  born  to  labor  and  pain ;  to  see  how  wearily  and  heavily 
laden  they  drag  through  so  many  crushing  and  hard  years, 
uninstructed  in  the  truth,  deriving  no  nourishment  from  the 
fountain-head  of  knowledge,  ignorant  of  the  great  question 
of  salvation,  and  finally  falling  into  the  grave  without  ever 
having  become  acquainted  with  God.  And  yet  our  people  are 
a  noble  race,  who,  by  proper  pruning,  could  produce  excellent 
fruit;  a  luxuriant  soil,  from  wiiich  we  can  gather  either  an 
abundant  harvest  of  grain  or  a  corrupt  pile  of  weeds,  accord- 
ing to  the  care  we  bestow  upon  it." 

Such  language,  applied  to  practical  matters  in  a  practical 
way,  awakened  profound  sympathy.  The  growing  favor  which 
Irving's  preaching  received,  increased  his  boldness,  which 
again  enlarged  the  multitude  of  his  hearers.  Many  stood  for 
hours  in  narrow  spots  in  order  to  hear  those  far-sounding 
orations,  that  often  exceded  an  hour  in  length.  Yet  he  met 
with  opposition,  which  became  very  strong  when  he  began  to 
touch  upon  controverted  doctrinal  points,  the  discussion  of  which 
would  have  been  more  appropriate  in  the  age  of  Scholasticism 
than  in  the  nineteenth  century,  and  which  proves  to  us  the 
standpoint  of  English  theology,  in  spite  of  all  its  practical  ex- 
cellence. In  one  of  his  works  he  declared  that  the  body  of 
Christ,  like  our  own,  had  been  sinful  from  birth,  that  it  was 


IRVINGISM. 


395 


flesh  like  Adam's  after  his  fall,  and  that  it  only  became  sinless 
after  the  resurrection.  Omitting  all  the  subtleties  of  the 
author,  the  pith  of  his  doctrine  is,  that  we  can  only  receive 
Christ's  true  humanity  in  case  it  was  subject  to  sin — a  doc- 
trine which,  indeed,  in  many  Biblical  passages,  as  those  which 
declare  that  Christ  was  tempted  like  us,  has  some  force  and 
great  practical  meaning,  if  Christ  is  to  be  an  exemplar,  whom 
we  are  pledged  to  follow  in  every  respect.  However,  this 
opinion,  notwithstanding  the  author's  most  guarded  assurances 
and  explanations,  was  so  misinterpreted  as  to  make  Christ  a 
sinner,  to  destroy  or  diminish  his  absolute  holiness  and  sin- 
lessness.  Thus  the  dogmatist  baffled  the  measures  of  the 
preacher,  and  divisions  occurred  among  his  former  friends. 

But  in  connection  with  this  great  man — whose  treatment 
again  leads  us  into  the  department  of  fanaticism — there  was 
a  still  greater  danger  than  his  favorite  doctrinal  opinion. 
Irving  held  special  meetings  in  his  own  house,  where  prayer 
was  offered  and  the  Bible  read.  It  happened  that  some  of 
those  present  were  seized  as  though  by  a  special  inspiration,  and 
compelled  to  speak  in  a  peculiar  and  strange  voice  and  in- 
tonation, or  rather  to  burst  forth  in  loud  sounds,  which,  in 
connection  with  an  extraordinary  excitement  of  spirit,  reminded 
one  of  the  speaking  in  tongues  in  the  ancient  Corinthian 
church.  The  affair  soon  became  known  to  the  city  and  the 
world,  for  one  day  a  person  present  at  his  public  service  in 
church  broke  out  into  this  kind  of  inspiration,  and  afterward 
the  same  thing  was  repeated  at  different  times  and  places. 
The  matter  was  now  discussed  by  friends  and  enemies.  Some 
persons  saw  in  these  occurrences  a  divine  authorization  of 
Irving,  while  to  others  they  were  unwelcome.  The  judgment 
of  the  multitude,  and  even  of  the  learned,  wavered  between 
attributing  to  them  a  supernatural  and  an  unnatural  character. 
Irving  took  the  thing  under  his  own  protection,  for  he  be- 
lieved in  the  continuation  of  miracles,  and  connected  that 
belief  with  his  view  of  the  true  humanity  of  Christ ;  for  since 
Christ  was  an  example  for  us  in  all  respects,  he  must  also 
be  such  in  working  miracles.  We  should  not  follow  in  part, 
but  altogether,  and  should  not  quench  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord 

Vol.  IL— 26 


396 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


where  he  manifests  himself  in  miracles.  Such  assumptions, 
with  his  vouching  for  the  whole  affair,  led  to  his  ecclesiastical 
arraignment. 

The  elders  of  the  Scotch  Church  in  London  were  not 
lacking  in  friendly  feeling  toward  him,  and  only  after  various 
fruitless  remonstrances  was  he  compelled  to  vacate  his  place, 
in  the  Spring  of  1832.  But  this  did  not  end  the  matter. 
Though  his  church  was  closed,  Irving  preached  all  the  more 
zealously  out  of  doors,  especially  on  the  great  Islington 
Common.  Meanwhile  a  special  chapel  for  the  service  of  the 
sect — for  such  his  followers  had  now  become — was  erected 
in  Newman  Street,  and  Irving  presided  over  the  new  church 
henceforth  under  the  apocalyptic  name  of  an  angel.  Its 
members  were  denominated  prophets,  evangelists,  deacons,  etc.; 
for  the  restoration  of  offices  as  we  find  them  in  the  apostolic 
church  was  one  of  the  pecularities  of  Irvingism.  In  a  short 
time  the  number  of  Irvingites  increased  so  rapidly  that  in 
London  alone  seven  congregations  were  organized,  after  the 
model  of  the  first  one.  Meanwhile  the  Scotch  National  Church, 
to  which  Irving  originally  belonged,  asserted  that  he  was  respon- 
sible to  it,  and  he  was  therefore  ordered  to  appear  at  Annan 
before  the  presbyters  of  his  native  city.  This  took  place, 
and  with  great  publicity.  After  his  return  to  London  he  once 
more  visited  his  native  land,  in  the  Autumn  of  1834,  for  the 
purpose  of  ending  his  days  there.  A  violent  fever,  which 
had  already  taxed  his  strength  for  some  time,  put  an  end  to 
his  life.  He  died  at  Glasgow  on  the  7th  of  December,  when 
forty-two  years  of  age.  But  his  disciples  propagated  his 
doctrines  and  miracles  even  on  the  Continent,  and  the  church 
of  Geneva  was  for  a  long  time  disturbed  by  them.1 

1  Irvingism  has  latterly  made  progress  in  Germany,  and  is  striving 
to  extend  itself  in  Switzerland.  It  seeks  its  chief  strength  in  the  re- 
newed apostleship,  and  in  the  restoration  of  the  offices  mentioned  in  the 
Epistle  to  the  Ephesians  (iv.  11).  It  is  tolerant  toward  other  ecclesi- 
astical organizations,  and  sees  a  provisionally  good  element  in  them 
all,  bnt  holds  that  they  have  deviated  from  pure  apostolical  Christianity, 
whose  literal  restoration  is  the  mission  of  the  age.  The  Irvingism  of 
the  present  day,  however,  does  not  rest  alone  on  the  personality  of 


ANGLO-PRUSSIAN  BISHOPRIC  OF  JERUSALEM.  397 


Though,  as  we  have  seen,  the  greater  portion  of  the  spirit- 
ual life  of  England  came  from  the  dissenting  bodies  and  from 
the  Methodists,  the  Established  Church  has  recently  attracted 
attention  because  of  its  cooperation  in  the  establishment  of  a 
Bishopric  in  Jerusalem,  and  by  its  Puseyism.  It  is  well  known 
that  Frederick  William  IV.  of  Prussia,  who  immediately  after 
his  ascension  to  the  throne  (1840),  and  while  great  political 
changes  were  occurring  in  the  East,  turned  his  attention  to 
the  maternal  home  of  Christianity,  and  hoped  to  establish  a 
Protestant  Bishopric  in  Jerusalem.  It  was  anticipated  that 
by  this  means  Protestantism  would  be  more  firmly  established, 
and  an  important  center  formed  for  missionary  labors.  While 
Prussia  had  formerly  united  with  England  in  the  attainment 
of  great  ecclesiastical  ends,1  it  now  seemed  that  England,  by 
the  position  which  Providence  had  given  her,  was  adapted 
to  the  realization  of  this  plan,  and  the  influence  which  she 
had  gained  as  a  European  power  in  the  East  and  in  Jerusalem 
encouraged  the  hope  without,  while  it  was  inwardly  strength- 
Irving  himself,  but  is  rooted  in  the  movements  which  have  arisen  in 
the  Scotch  Church  since  1830,  and  have  been  attended  by  extraordinary 
phenomena,  for  instance,  speaking  with  tongues.  One  result  has  been 
the  prayer-meetings,  first  set  in  motion  by  Mr.  Steward,  but  soon  propa- 
gated throughout  Great  Britain.  The  original  seat  of  the  sect  is  Albury, 
the  possession  of  Sir  Henry  Drummond,  one  of  its  apostles.  In  doc- 
trine the  Irvingites  diverge  from  the  orthodox  teaching  of  the  church 
on  single  points,  particularly  on  the  sinful  humanity  of  Christ,  and  the 
Lord's  Supper,  which  latter  they  regard  as  an  offering,  but  not  in  the 
Roman  Catholic  sense.  One  of  their  peculiarities  is  the  strongly  artic- 
ulated hierarchy  and  the  literal  application  of  the  Old  Testament  types 
(the  Ark  of  the  Covenant,  etc.)  to  Christianity.  The  tendency  may  be  best 
designated  as  Anglo-Judaism.  We  refer  the  reader  to  the  quarto  Memorial 
(without  title  and  date),  by  the  Irvingites  themselves,  to  the  Patriarchs, 
Archbishops,  etc.;  to  Böttcher's  Briefwechsel  mit  den  Irvingianem  (Leipzig, 
1858);  and  to  Reich's  treatise  in  the  Studien  und  Kritiken,  1849:  Nr.  1. 
Comp.  Tholuck's  Litterarische  Anzeiger,  1848:  Nr.  15  ff.;  J.  W.  Schulze: 
Der  Irvingismus  (Berlin,  1856).  [See  also  J.  L.  Jacobi :  Die  Lehre  der 
Irvingisten,  etc.  2nd  Ed.  Berlin,  1868.  —  J.  F.  H.]  Mormonism,  which 
has  lately  been  spreading  over  Europe,  can  only  be  treated  in  con- 
nection with  the  most  recent  history. 

1  So  with  the  work  of  union  at  the  beginning  of  the  18th  century. 


398 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


ened  by  the  fixed  forms  of  her  ecclesiastical  character,  and 
by  the  halo  of  her  episcopal  dignity. 

Negotiations  were  therefore  introduced  to  the  effect  that, 
with  the  greatest  regard  for  the  historical  and  national 
peculiarities  of  the  two  churches,  a  Bishopric  should  be  formed 
at  the  Church  of  St.  James'  in  Jerusalem,  after  the  plan  of 
the  Established  Church  in  England.  The  stationed  bishop 
might  be  a  German  or  an  Englishman,  but  must  receive  his 
appropriate  consecration  at  the  hands  of  the  Primate  of  the 
Anglican  church,  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  must 
subscribe  to  the  Thirty  Nine  Articles  of  the  Establishment. 
The  English  bishop  should  take  under  the  protection  of  the 
Established  Church  other  Protestant  congregations,  even  those 
not  belonging  to  it,  if  they  desired  it,  and  their  ministers 
must  in  turn  subscribe  to  the  Thirty-Nine  Articles.  The 
selection  of  the  bishop  should  alternate  between  England  and 
Prussia.  The  first  choice,  which  occurred  at  the  close  of  the 
year  1841,  was  made  by  England,  in  the  person  of  a  native 
Prussian,  Dr.  Alexander.  He  was  originally  a  Jew,  born  in 
the  grand-duchy  of  Posen,  but  baptized  and  ordained  in  Eng- 
land, and  afterward  Professor  of  Hebrew  Literature  in  the 
Royal  College  in  London.  In  this  individual  the  English,  the 
Prussian,  and  the  Oriental-Palestinian  elements  seemed  to 
unite  most  happily.  The  consecration  occurred  on  the  7th 
of  November,  1841,  and  on  the  21st  of  January,  1842,  the 
bishop  assumed  control  of  his  new  diocese.1 

While  people  differed  in  opinion  concerning  the  transaction, 
there  was  also  a  variety  of  results  expected  from  it.  While 
some  perceived  in  it  the  progress  of  Protestantism,  and  saw 
an  increase  of  universal  historical  relations,  others  boldly  ex- 
pressed their  apprehension  that  this  alliance  of  Prussia  and 
England  in  ecclesiastical  matters  would  be  disadvantageous  to 
the  inner  development  of  the  German  church,  and  that  the 

1  See  Das  evangelische  Bistlmm  in  Jerusalem,  geschichtliche  Darlegung 
mit  Urkunden.  Berlin,  1842.  —  The  place  of  Bishop  Alexander,  who  died 
in  1846,  has  since  been  filled  by  Samuel  Gobat  of  Cremine,  Canton 
Berne,  a  student  of  the  Basle  Mission  House.  Comp,  on  him  the  Kirchen- 
blatt für  die  reformirten  Schiveiz,  1846:  Nr.  10.  Feuilleton. 


THE  TRACTARIAN  MOVEMENT. 


390 


exterior  formalism,  which  can  never  aid  Protestantism,  would 
be  detrimental  to  the  free  development  of  German  ecclesi- 
astical life.  The  statement  of  the  Primate  of  England,  in  his 
decree  of  installment,  concerning  the  German  church,  that  it 
was  "one  less  wisely  organized,"  was  ill  received;  while  it  is 
patent  that,  from  the  Reformation  to  the  present  time,  the 
spiritual  nerve  of  Protestantism,  which  was  cut  in  England 
from  the  very  beginning  by  the  temporal  sword,  has  pulsated 
with  most  marked  vitality  in  Germany.1 

But  the  mistrust  of  the  English  church  was  increased  when, 
about  the  same  time,  Puseyism  presented  a  new  proof  of  the 
hierarchical,  Catholicizing  tendency  of  the  Anglican  church. 
We  see  in  the  ecclesiastical  history  of  England  how  the  rigid 
adherents  of  episcopal  authority  in  the  time  of  James  I.  and 
Charles  I.  returned  again  to  Catholicism.  Bishop  William  Laud 
restored  all  the  remaining  frame-work  of  faith  which  had  been 
thrown  down  by  the  Reformation,  except  the  temporal  power 
in  Rome,  which  he  repudiated.2  We  now  find  a  similar 
tendency  in  Puseyism.  In  the  years  1820 — 23,  certain  works 
were  introduced  into  the  lectures  at  Oxford  which  contained 
the  seeds  of  a  tendency  that  constantly  grew,  and  vigorously 
approached  the  principles  of  Catholicism,  until  1830.  The 
British  Magazine  and  the  Tracts  for  the  Times  were  its  organs. 
At  the  beginning  of  1840  four  professors  in  Oxford  University 
became  the  champions  of  the  new  movement:  Dr.  Pusey  (born 
in  1801  and  descended  from  an  old  and  illustrious  family). 
J.  Keble,  J.  H.  Newman  and  J.  Williams.  Newman  afterward 
formally  entered  the  Romish  church.  Their  efforts  were 
designed  to  make  the  church  stand  forth  as  a  power  clothed 
in  exterior,  visible  forms.  Their  ideal  was  the  old  Catholic- 
episcopal  church  of  the  first  six  centuries,  the  church  of 
Irenseus  and  Cyprian,  from  which  the  later  Romish  church 

1  See  Das  anglo-preuss.  Bisthum  zu  St.  Jacob  in  Jerusalem  und  was  da- 
ran  hängt.  -  Freiburg,  1842.  The  news  from  the  episcopate  has  since  been 
gratifying.  The  newly  erected  evangelical  church  at  Jerusalem  was 
dedicated  January  21st,  1849,  when  the  bishop  preached  on  Is.  lvi.  7. 

8  See  Vorlesungen,  Part  III.,  p.  242  ff.  (2nd  Ed.) 


400 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


had  fallen,  but  from  which  Protestantism  has  separated  itself 
in  arbitrary  subjectivity. 

Pusey  records  the  pure  Christian  doctrine  as  represented 
by  the  Church  Fathers  of  the  first  six  centuries  and  by  the 
six  great  councils  of  that  period.  What  they  established  is 
the  unchangeable  law  for  the  whole  church,  for  its  inner  and 
outer  development.  At  that  time  the  Western  and  Eastern 
churches  were  one,  but  after  their  separation  no  general 
council  was  possible,  and  therefore  there  has  been  no  true 
progression.  Puseyism  is  distinguished  from  Protestantism  in 
not  merely  recognizing  Holy  Scripture  as  the  only  authority, 
but  in  placing  beside  it  the  tradition  of  the  church.  Yet  it 
does  not  give  the  wide  range  to  this  tradition  which  the 
Romish  church  does,  but  simply  confines  it  to  the  first  six 
centuries.  The  difference  is  therefore  only  of  chronology, 
and  not  of  principle.  Also  according  to  the  Oxford  teaching, 
Scripture  truth  can  only  be  found  within  the  true  Church, 
which  is  its  witness  an<i  authorized  interpreter.  Whoever  is 
not  connected  with  the  church,  and  explains  the  Scriptures 
without  regard  to  its  authority,  falls  into  Rationalism  or 
fanaticism.  England  alone  has  preserved  the  pure  elements 
of  the  church;  she  received  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  origi- 
nally from  the  Oriental  church, — when  connected  with  the 
Western.  She  is  in  possession  of  the  pure,  apostolic  ordination, 
which  has  been  continued  to  her  bishops.  Ordination  is  there- 
fore, according  to  the  Puseyites,  not  a  merely  ecclesiastical 
custom  or  ceremony,  but  the  highest  sacrament,  because  it  is 
the  only  means  by  which  the  two  other  sacraments — baptism 
and  the  Lord's  Supper — become  effective. 

Puseyism  lays  an  important  stress  upon  all  sacraments  as 
divine  agencies.  From  them  arises  the  justification  by  which 
man's  faith  becomes  active;  but  it  is  a  specific  faith  in  the 
specific  operation  of  the  sacraments.  Puseyism  constitutes 
in  the  main  a  striking  antithesis  to  that  subjective  inner  life 
which  obtains  in  Quakerism  and  similar  tendencies.  It  is 
stiff  positivism.  The  exterior  institution  of  the  church  is, 
according  to  it,  the  substance  of  salvation,  and  here  it  really 
harmonizes  with  Roman  Catholicism,  while  it  rejects  every- 


STRUGGLES  IN  THE   SCOTCH  CHURCH:  CHALMERS.  401 


thing  especially  Romish  in  distinction  from  English.  While 
we  formerly  observed  a  chronological  difference,  we  here 
perceive  a  local  one,  but  not  one  of  principle.  It  is  popery 
in  both  cases.  Puseyism  only  sets  up  its  Oxford  popery  be- 
fore that  of  Rome.  On  this  field  the  battle  became  easy  for 
Rome.  She  could  celebrate  a  quiet  triumph,  as  she  saw  many 
Puseyites,  and  with  them  many  others,  entering  her  popish 
haven.  But  this  result  very  naturally  provoked  great  oppo- 
sition to  Puseyism  in  England.  The  Protestant  principle  be- 
gan to  revive  vigorously,  and,  as  in  earlier  times,  Scotland 
began  the  reaction. 

After  many  bloody  battles,  the  Scotch  National  Church  was 
politically  recognized  about  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century 
(1690).  In  connection  with  that  recognition  was  the  abolition 
of  the  right  of  patronage,  by  which  wealthy  land-owners 
possessed  the  parishes  in  the  country.  About  the  beginning 
of  the  eighteenth  century  (1712)  this  right  was  again  intro- 
duced, though  under  many  protests.  Crimination  and  re- 
crimination followed.  The  battle  raged  with  more  or  less 
violence  during  the  whole  of  the  last  century,  when  two  parties 
took  shape:  the  Conservatives,  who  were  satisfied  with  the 
attainment  of  moderate  ends,  and  the  rigid  Evangelists,  who 
constantly  struggled  for  their  rights.  Finally,  on  the  28th 
of  May,  1834,  a  general  convention  of  Scotch  ministers  and 
elders,  three  hundred  and  eighty- six  in  number,  took  place. 
They  passed  the  Veto  Act, — a  declaration  by  which  the  con- 
gregation reserved  the  right  to  receive  or  reject  candidates 
proposed  by  the  patron. 

New  conflicts  arose  both  in  and  out  of  Parliament.  Since 
the  remonstrances  obtained  no  official  hearing,  the  Evangelical 
party  went  to  extremes.  At  its  head  stood  Dr.  Chalmers, 
who  died  .in  1847.1  On  the  18th  of  May,  1843,  more  than 
four  hundred  ministers  declared  their  departure  from  the  fold 
of  the  Scotch  National  Church,  and  organized  themselves  into 

1  On  this  excellent  man,  compare  the  Biography  by  his  son-in-law 
Hanna:  Memoirs  of  the  Life  and  Writings  of  Thomas  Chalmers  (Edinb., 
1850.  A  selection  from  this  has  been  published  in  the  Avenir,  1850: 
No.  13  ff.),  and  Julius  Kostlin'a  article  Chalmers  in  Herzog's  Real-Encic. 


402 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


the  Free  Church  of  Scotland.  On  the  17th  of  October  a  second 
convention  took  place,  when  it  appeared  that  more  than  one 
third  of  the  population  had  signified  adherence  to  the  Free 
Church.  Sixty- six  preachers  were  sent  out  to  promulgate 
the  principles  of  ecclesiastical  independence  from  the  state, 
and  even  in  England  voluntary  contributions  were  collected 
for  the  benefit  of  the  seceding  church.  Some  of  the  mes- 
sengers of  the  new  church  were  sent  to  America,  the  native 
land  of  ecclesiastical  independence.  The  National  Church 
called  these  messengers  "wandering  knights,  who  make  fools 
of  people  in  order  to  get  gold  from  their  pockets."  But  this 
did  not  prevent  the  donation  of  millions  of  gold,  and  the  Free 
Church  found  itself  able  to  build  chapels,  found  schools,  and 
even  to  conduct  in  its  own  name  a  mission  in  the  East  Indies. 

Turning  now  to  France,  we  have  not  to  treat  of  a  Protest- 
ant state-church,  but  of  a  minority,  which,  after  many  bloody 
battles,  has  finally  attained  certain  ecclesiastical  recognition 
within  prescribed  limits.1  As  for  the  inner  development  of 
Protestantism  in  France,  we  shall  speak  only  of  Frenchmen 
in  the  strict  sense.  The  Alsace,  with  its  theological  school 
at  Strasburg,  has  been  intimately  related,  especially  of  late, 
to  Germany,  and  hence  we  spoke  in  a  former  lecture  of 
Oberlin,  whose  picture  must  justly  be  considered  a  German 
original.  But  as  for  the  Protestants  who  speak  the  French 
language,  we  nowhere  find  more  than  in  France  both  sides 
of  Protestantism  standing  at  opposite  poles :  the  negative  side, 
which  is  identified  with  political  liberalism,  and  generally  ex- 
presses itself  in  religious  indifference,  and  the  positive  side, 
which  holds  with  decision,  and  we  might  say  with  rigid 
tenacity,  to  the  declarations  of  the  Reformers  as  based  on 
Holy  Scripture.  Where  free  movement  of  thought  and  scien- 
tific inquiry  are  wanting,  the  latter  class  subside  into  a 
dead  orthodoxy;  or  where  that  orthodoxy  is  only  animated 

1  "We  refer  the  reader  to  Reuchlin:  Das  Cliristenthum  in  Frankreich 
(Hamburg,  1837),  and  especially  to  the  later  work  of  Dr.  J.  C.  L.  Gieseler: 
Die  protestantische  Kirche  Frankreichs  von  1787  bis  1846.  2vols.  Leipzig, 
1848.  Comp.  Die  religiösen  Zustände  Frankreichs,  by  E.  S.,  in  Gelzer's 
Jlonatsb lätter,  1854  (January  to  March). 


FRENCH  PROTESTANTISM. 


403 


by  practical  interests,  it  expresses  itself  in  a  harsh  and  in- 
jurious religious  zeal  similar  to  that  of  the  Puritans. 

The  theology  of  the  French  Protestants,  as  it  is  now  culti- 
vated in  Montauban,  has,  so  far  as  we  understand  it,  many 
points  of  resemblance  to  the  theology  of  the  English  Church. 
It  is  at  least  equally  far  removed  from  German  science,  and 
feels  itself  rigidly  bound  by  fixed  declarations  to  religious 
truths  as  declared  in  the  confessions.  It  often  happens  that 
this  orthodoxy,  especially  when  pervaded  by  practical  religious 
life,  assumes  a  Methodist  tint,  and  a  one-sided  and  hostile 
position  toward  everything  which  appears  to  it  to  be  Ration- 
alism, naturalism,  or  the  like.1  Yet  the  piety,  self-sacrifice 
and  firmness  of  the  Protestants  of  the  South  of  France,  in 
their  conflict  with  the  usurpations  of  the  Romish  church,  merit 
our  high  appreciation.  Here  the  warriors  stand  upon  a 
hallowed  soil,  consecrated  by  the  blood  of  the  fathers.  They 
do  something  more  than  speculate,  and  write  books — things 
which  so  often  satisfy  us  Germans.  A  wide  field  here  opens 
for  practical  sentiment.  Lately,  in  this  department  the  different 
Christian  societies  have  developed  their  activity  by  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  Bible,  by  bearing  it  to  the  humblest  vale  and 
hut,  by  sending  out  preachers  for  the  evangelization  of  the 
masses,  by  the  establishment  of  schools,  and  by  affording 
spiritual  help  of  every  kind. 

The  Evangelical  Society  enjoys  by  far  the  widest  field  of 
operation;  it  has  a  large  number  of  auxiliary  associations,  and 
rivals  English  energy.  In  connection  with  it,  and  proceeding 
in  part  from  more  liberal  principles,  is  the  Protestant  Society 
of  Nismes  (founded  in  1838),  which  pays  particular  attention 
to  dispersed  Protestants.  The  above-mentioned  distrust  of 
pious  Frenchmen  toward  everything  which  bears  the  shape  of 
illuminism,  is  very  natural,  as  the  superficial  liberalism  of 

1  Even  Neander  cannot  suit  this  orthodoxy.  His  Church  History 
swarms  with  heresies,  if  we  are  to  believe  the  Archives  du  Cfiristianisme. 
Such  assertions  as  that  the  first  Christians  did  not  have  a  Sunday,  and 
the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  was  probably  not  written  by  Paul,  could  only 
arise  from  gross  ignorance  or  heresy.  Comp.  Gieseler's  Die  protestan- 
tische Kirche  Frankreichs,  Vol.  II.  p.  273.  Note. 


404 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


many  of  the  French  people  is  too  much  inclined  to  pervert 
what  is  positively  Christian  into  an  intangible  naturalism; 
while  the  deeply  cultivated  among  them  have  begun  to  feel 
the  necessity  of  showing  a  friendly  side  to  German  science. 
Except  some  celebrated  exceptions,  there  are  fewer  theolo- 
gians than  statesmen  and  great  writers  of  the  nation  who  feel 
themselves  more  called  to  develop  rather  a  purely  theoretical 
and  doctrinal  than  practical  activity;  but  yet  it  is  an  activity 
which,  God  willing,  shall  not  be  without  results. 

Among  these  men  Guizot  stands  preeminent.  On  different 
occasions  he  has  defended  Protestantism  from  a  political 
standpoint,  by  protecting  it  against  the  charge  of  being  revo- 
lutionary, which  ignorant  people  have  often  brought  against 
it.  "  Harmony  in  freedom"  is  Guizot's  ideal,  for  which  every 
effort  should  be  made  when  the  question  is  a  justification  of 
the  confessions  within  the  state.  The  hope  of  the  philosoph- 
ical politicians  is  limited  to  this:  France  will  not  become 
Protestant,  but  Protestantism  will  not  go  down  in  France. 
This,  however,  is  but  half  a  hope,  which  affords  no  satisfac- 
tion to  zealous  Protestants,  and  has  therefore  been  despised 
by  Protestant  theologians.  Not  only  the  Methodist  party, 
which  considers  the  pope  as  Antichrist,  has  shaken  its  head 
at  hearing  it,  but  even  the  champion  of  the  rationalistic 
tendency,  Pastor  Coquerel,  has  defended  the  claims  of  Protest- 
antism against  Guizot.1  Much  depends  upon  what  we  con- 
sider Protestantism.  The  time  of  Calvin,  of  Beza,  and  of 
Plessis  Mornay  will  hardly  return  to  France.  A  conference 
like  the  Gallican  will  not  be  likely  to  bind  all  Frenchmen;  the 
evangelization  of  France  in  this  sense  belongs  to  the  pictures  of 
the  millennium.  But  it  remains  with  God  to  say  how  far  the 
spirit  of  evangelical  Christianity,  apart  from  all  temporal  and 
obligatory  forms — beyond  which  true  Protestantism  dwells  — 
will  be  able  to  unite  with  modern  culture,  and  to  pervade 
even  social  life,  which  is  now  wildly  abandoned  to  the  rough 
forces  of  carnal  idolatry  and  communism.2 

1  See  Guizot  and  Coquerel:  Ueber  den  Protestantismus  in  Frankreich. 
From  the  French,  by  C.  Plötz.  Leipzig,  1843. 

2  So  in  the  year  1843.    How  stands  the  matter  now?  The  synod  held 


THE  PROTESTANT  CHURCH  IN  FRENCH  SWITZERLAND.  405 


The  French  Protestant  church  is  intimately  connected  with 
Switzerland  by  means  of  the  old  maternal  Church  of  Geneva. 
As  we  return,  in  conclusion,  to  the  state  of  our  own  country, 
let  us  begin  with  this  church  and  French  Switzerland  in 
general.  In  the  first  part  of  the  present  century  we  find  in 
Switzerland,  as  in  Germany,  a  conflict  between  the  old  con- 
fessional faith  and  Rationalism.  But  there  was  this  difference : 
in  Switzerland  there  was  less  concern  about  formal  declara- 
tions on  revelation  and  reason  than  was  the  case  in  Germany, 
but  rather  the  interpretation  of  doctrines  and  their  authority 
in  life.  The  Church  of  Geneva,  like  that  of  England  and 
France,  was  not  disturbed  by  the  Kantian  questions  and  their 
possible  results.  Thus  its  Rationalism  assumed  the  old  forms 
of  Arianism  and  Socinianism.  The  Genevan  School  had  long 
since  broken  loose  from  rigid  Calvinism,  and  Rousseau  had 
charged  its  preachers  with  giving  no  answer  to  the  question : 
Whether  Christ  is  God?  The  freethinking  or  lax  theology  as 

in  Paris  in  September,  1848,  has  not  led  to  a  gratifying  result.  The 
strongly  confessional  party  has  not  been  able  to  bind  all  the  members 
of  the  church  again  to  the  old  Confession  of  Rochelle.  Strictly  ortho- 
dox men  acknowledge  the  grand  truth  that  "Christianity  is  more  than 
a  wreath  of  connected  dogmas,  —  that  it  is  the  great  fact  of  God's  ap- 
pearance among  men,  that  it  is,  in  one  word,  a  life,  which  cannot  be 
formularized."  (Sardinoux,  Professor  of  Theology  in  Montauban).  There- 
fore the  majority  regarded  it  as  an  advantage  that  the  different  con- 
fessional tendencies  could  be  united  on  the  one  ground  of  Christ  crucified, 
which  would  hardly  have  been  possible  thirty  years  ago.  The  diffi- 
culties of  the  period  were  acknowledged,  but  the  hope  was  not  renounced 
that  the  work  begun  in  love  would  increase  to  the  perfect  height  of 
knowledge.  In  opposition  to  this  "mediatory  church,"  to  which  Grand- 
pierre  and  Adolph  Monod  belonged,  there  arose,  under  Frederick  Monod 
and  Count  Gasparin  (who  has  been  of  great  service  to  French  Protest- 
antism), a  special  church,  which,  standing  aloof  from  all  latitudinari- 
anism,  seeks  the  salvation  of  the  Reformed  church  on  the  basis  of  the 
old  ecclesiastical  confessions.  However,  the  history  of  French  Protest- 
antism is  as  far  from  being  complete  as  that  of  Germany.  The  session  of 
the  Evangelical  Alliance  in  Paris  (1855)  has  contributed  to  a  more  favorable 
opinion  of  German  theology  on  the  part  of  those  who  can  appreciate 
it;  while  many  recent  literary  contributions  —  among  which  we  number 
especially  the  excellent  works  of  F.  Bungener  of  Geneva  —  give  ground 
for  expecting  a  freer  theological  development  in  the  future. 


406 


HISTORY  OP  THE  CHURCH. 


related  to  dogmas,  had  overpowered  the  prominent  men  of 
the  church,  and  new  ethics  had  driven  the  old  dogmatics  and 
polemics  from  the  pulpit. 

But  the  old  faith  had  not  altogether  died  out,  and,  after 
the  great  political  events  of  the  years  1813 — 1815,  it  began 
once  more  to  assert  its  rights.  It  was  in  part  owing  to 
Madame  Krudener,  of  whom  we  shall  speak  hereafter,  that 
young  theologians  in  Geneva  and  the  Canton  Vaud  declared 
in  favor  of  more  orthodox  preaching.  In  contrast  with  this 
zeal  an  event  occurred  which  our  Protestant  understanding 
cannot  justify:  the  Venerable  Compagnie  des  Pasteurs  issued 
a  formal  prohibition  in  1817  against  preaching  on  those  doc- 
trines which  had  ever  been  in  force  as  the  fundamental  doc- 
trines of  the  Reformed  church.  The  action  may  have  been 
prompted  by  a  peaceful  spirit  — not  to  suppress  faith,  but  to 
avoid  dispute.  But  the  arbitrary  prohibition  caused  great 
bitterness  of  feeling.  A  number  of  preachers  refused  to  obey 
it,  and  actually  separated  from  the  church.  Rigid  Calvinism, 
which  was  once  the  state  religion,  was  now  considered  only 
a  sect.  Its  adherents — now  no  longer  the  clear,  old  Calvin- 
ists,  but  all  who  were  more  or  less  influenced  by  Methodist 
tendencies,  and  inclined  to  a  somber  view  of  life — were  called 
by  the  people  Momiers,  and  exposed  themselves  to  the  insults 
of  the  populace.  Many  vexatious  occurrences  took  place  in 
the  Canton  Vaud,  and  the  great  vital  question  of  our  age, 
What  rights  have  the  state  in  relation  to  the  religion  of  sects 
and  parties?,  received  various  answers.  It  is  remarkable  how, 
in  the  present  instance,  political  liberalism,  though  it  did  not 
always  share  the  opinions  of  the  Momiers,  at  least  took  their 
part  at  the  outset,  because  it  regarded  religious  violence  and 
the  suppression  of  the  individual  convictions  as  an  abomi- 
nation. Many  of  those  who  were  persecuted  by  the  state 
spoke  in  favor  of  the  freedom  of  worship  in  the  United  States ; 
though  it  is  doubtful  whether,  under  different  circumstances, 
they  would  have  accorded  the  same  liberty  to  others.  The 
political  reorganization  of  Switzerland  after  1830  was  finally 
determined  in  favor  of  religious  freedom.  But  it  soon  became 
apparent  that  many  who  desired  a  return  of  orthodox  theol- 


THE  GENEVAN  CHURCH.  407 

ogy  and  a  more  vigorous  church  discipline,  by  no  means 
wished  a  formal  separation  from  the  church. 

In  1831  there  arose  between  neology  and  separatism  a 
middle  party,  which  shared  with  the  latter  more  strongly 
doctrinal  convictions,  yet  without  disconnecting  itself  with  the 
same  abruptness  from  the  state-church.  This  party  came 
together  as  an  Evangelical  Society;  it  held  its  meetings  in 
the  Oratoire,  and  established  a  theological  school  for  itself, 
whose  aim  was  the  support  of  strict  orthodoxy  and  the 
awakening  of  a  vital  Christian  sentiment.  The  national  church 
had  to  prevent  itself  from  becoming  a  pitiable  ruin,  by  im- 
bibing as  many  of  the  new  elements  of  religious  life  as  were 
compatible  with  its  former  tendency.  Amid  this  unsettled  yet 
moderate  strife  of  parties,  the  Reformation  festival  occurred 
at  Geneva,  in  1835.  Here,  as  in  Germany  in  1817,  the  Ref- 
ormation was  viewed  from  very  different  standpoints,  and 
there  were  men  who  charged  the  Genevan  church  with  apostasy, 
while  more  peaceful  spirits  thought  that  in  it  they  could  find 
a  means  for  reconciliation  and  unity.  This  result,  however, 
is  in  the  distant  future.  The  conditions  of  its  success  lie  in 
an  impartial  examination  of  the  real  wants  of  the  church.  A 
friendly  feeling  for  German  theology,  in  which  the  union  of 
science  and  faith  has  not  been  fully  obtained,  but  for  which 
more  salutary  efforts  have  been  made  than  elsewhere,  can 
be  of  special  advantage.1 

1  Meanwhile  ecclesiastical  life  in  French  Switzerland  has  passed  through 
an  important  phase  of  development,  in  connection  with  Methodism  on 
one  side  and  political  revolution  on  the  other.  While  previously  the 
more  positive  tendency,  which  was  called  Methodism,  fonnd  a  support 
in  liberalism,  which  took  free  worship  under  its  protection,  against  the 
demonstrations  of  the  civil  authorities,  the  relation  was  now  changed 
after  this  civil  authority  passed  into  radical  hands.  The  Methodists, 
who  were  members  of  the  state  church,  and  to  whom  many  of  its 
ministers  were  attached,  were  regarded  by  many  persons  as  instruments 
of  reaction,  and  were  forbidden  to  hold  private  services  in  the  Oratoires. 
Consequently  a  demand  was  made  of  the  clergy,  in  August,  1845,  to 
read  from  the  pulpit  a  political  proclamation  recommending  the  new 
Constitution  to  the  people,  though  an  earlier  law  only  permitted  procla- 
mations relating  to  religion  to  be  read  in  the  churches.   The  refusal 


408 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


As  we  turn  to  German  Protestant  Switzerland,  we  observe 
in  the  closing  years  of  the  eighteenth  century  a  far  different 
picture  of  ecclesiastical  relations  and  prevailing  theological 
sentiments.  We  must  confess  that,  of  all  the  cities  of  German 
Switzerland,  Zürich  occupied  the  first  intellectual  rank.  What 
power  was  wielded  by  Lavater!  What  a  tie  was  he  between 
the  intellectual  forces  of  Germany  and  those  of  Switzerland! 
Every  Christian  German  scholar  and  artist  who  traveled 
through  Switzerland  visited  Lavater,  and  whoever  went  from 
Zürich  to  a  German  university — which  took  place  from  Zürich 
more  than  any  other  Swiss  city — took  letters  of  intro- 
duction from  him.  Lavater's  Christianity  was  fervent,  in- 
dividual, and  ingrown  with  him  and  his  thinking,  so  that  a  cold 
observer  might  fancy  him  fanatical  and  arbitrary,  and  there- 
fore not  adapted  to  make  a  definite  impression  on  the  Zürich 
church.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  the  worthy  prelate  Hess 
defended  the  strictly  Biblical  and  ecclesiastical  orthodoxy, 
lighted  up  by  the  beams  of  the  new  illuminism,  but  in  no 

Of  forty-three  ministers  led  to  their  suspension.  On  the  11th  and  12th 

of  November,  1845,  there  occurred  at  a  clerical  meeting  in  Lausanne  a 
decisive  step  toward  a  popular  dismission,  which,  indeed,  was  only  a 
withdrawal  from  the  official  services  of  the  national  church,  and  not  an 
absolute  separation  from  it.  However,  ideas  contemplating  the  total 
separation  of  church  and  state,  which  had  originated  chiefly  in  the  ex- 
cellent writings  of  Vinet,  had  been  spreading  for  some  time  among  the 
people.  Many  persons  were  more  easily  inclined  to  take  this  step 
through  a  firm  reliance  upon  the  power  of  these  ideas,  which  had  been 
practically  realized  about  the  same  time  in  Scotland.  The  Tree  Church 
of  the  Canton  Vaud  was  the  real  result.  Yet  this  church  has  hereto- 
fore taken  deeper  root  in  the  higher  classes  and  among  the  clergy  than 
in  the  masses  of  the  people.  Its  gross  excesses  against  separatists  and 
their  religious  assemblies,  encouraged  to  some  extent  by  the  govern- 
ment, indicate  a  deep  decline  of  religious  and  moral  life  in  general. 
Together  with  Methodism,  other  religious  tendencies,  proceeding  from 
England,  as  Darbyism,  or  the  Plymouth  Brethren  (kindred  to  Irvingism), 
have  taken  root  in  French  Switzerland.  Comp.  Herzog:  Les  Freres  de 
Plymouth  (Lausanne,  1845).  On  the  movements  in  the  Canton  Vaud, 
see  Baup:  Pricis  des  Faits  etc.  (Lausanne,  1846),  A.  Schweizer:  Die 
kirchlichen  Zerwürfnisse  im  Kanton  Waadt  (Zürich,  1848),  and  Mestral: 
Mission  de  l'fylise  libre,  1848;  Germ.  Ed.  Berne,  1849. 


THE  PROTESTANT  CHURCH  IN  GERMAN  SWITZERLAND.  409 

way  destroyed  by  them.1  Hess  was  to  Zürich  and  to  Switzer- 
land what  Reinhard  was  to  the  Saxon  church  and  Storr  to 
that  of  Wiirtemberg.  Still,  Hess  did  not  belong  to  it  alone. 
His  clear  and  mild,  yet  fixed  and  safe  convictions,  as  ex- 
pressed in  his  writings  on  Biblical  history,  and  especially  on 
the  life  of  our  Lord,  found  a  hearty  reception  in  many  a  pious 
domestic  circle  in  Germany  and  in  the  soul  of  many  a  young 
theologian. 

Simultaneously  with  him,  John  George  Müller  of  Schaff- 
hausen,  the  disciple  of  Herder,  labored  for  the  maintainance 
of  positive  Christianity,  in  opposition  to  the  destructive  and 
superficial  tendencies  of  the  times.  Müller  was  more  orthodox 
and  conservative  than  his  great  teacher;  he  could  be  at  times 
sharp  and  scathing,  but  yet  he  never  took  ground  himself 
against  the  claims  of  culture,  and  avowed  as  freely  his  antip- 
athy to  morbid  bigotry  as  to  intolerable  liberalism.2  To- 
gether with  his  conservative,  mildly  orthodox,  and  yet  decid- 
edly positive  tendency,  which  was  represented  even  in  Berne 
by  the  worthy  Mtislin,  German  Rationalism  had  in  the  mean- 
while entered  Switzerland,  and  particularly  in  Zürich,  which 
was  most  susceptible  of  various  spiritual  impressions.  Two 
young  men,  Stolz  and  Häfeli,  at  first  enthusiastic  disciples  of 
Lavater,  were  inclined  to  the  prevailing  tendency  of  illuminism, 
which  they  meanwhile  advanced,  not  in  Switzerland,  but  in 
North  Germany,  and  especially  in  Bremen,  where  they  were 
preachers.3 

But  very  soon  the  Theological  School  of  Zürich,  and  by 
its  influence  the  church,  admitted  Rationalism  into  its  fold. 
This-  tendency  found  its  chief  defender  in  the  person  of  the 
learned  and  pious  Canon  Schulthess,4  who,  like  his  friend 

1  Comp,  the  article  Hess  in  Herzog's  Real-Encyclopczdie. 

2  His  Tlieophron,  his  Glaube  der  Christen,  the  Unterhaltungen  mit  Serena, 
and  his  excellent  historical  works,  are  still  deserving  of  respect. 

8  Stolz  is  distinguished  by  his  (modernized)  translation  of  the  New 
Testament,  and  his  explanations  thereto.  Lavater's  Letters,  in  Hegner, 
shed  an  interesting  light  on  the  development  of  the  two  men. 

4  For  an  appreciative  portrait  of  the  man,  see  Gelzer:  Die  Strauss- 
kclen  Zerwürfnisse,  etc.    Hamburg,  1843.  pp.  15,  16. 


410 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Paulus,  believed  he  must  remain  true  to  his  convictions  by 
rejecting  every  influence  which  he  feared  would  obscure  his 
freedom  of  thought?  He  vigorously  opposed  not  only  all 
Romish  tendencies,  but  especially  the  efforts  of  tract  societies 
and  similar  institutions,  which  were  described  as  Pietistical. 
He  came  into  contact  with  prominent  German  theologians,  and 
took  ground  with  all  his  power  against  all  dialectical  and 
speculative  accommodations,  until  the  old  forms  on  which  the 
remaining  part  of  his  character  rested,  went  to  pieces  be- 
neath him. 

The  church  of  Basle  remained  true  to  the  old  doctrine  as 
expressed  in  its  confession,  down  to  the  most  recent  time, 
yet  it  has  been  without  such  scientific  activity  as  has  pre- 
vailed in  Zürich.  The  University  had  lost  its  early  impor- 
tance since  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century.  We  must 
frankly  confess  it  here — we  do  not  speak  of  individuals,  but 
of  the  general  impression  made  by  the  University — that  it 
was  really  half  dead  and  half  alive.  Theological  science  had 
become  traditional  for  half  a  century,  and  though  it  could 
boast  of  having  remained  free  from  all  neological  influence, 
this  was  very  equivocal  praise,  in  view  of  the  scientific  in- 
activity into  which  it  constantly  sank;  for  its  religious  life 
was  on  a  par  with  its  scientific  vitality.  From  another  side, 
however,  Basle  presented  a  point  of  connection  and  adherence. 
The  practical  Christian  life  which  seeks  its  own  paths  inde- 
pendently of  the  state  and  the  school,  found  them  also  here, 
chiefly  in  the  form  which  men  had  been  accustomed  to  call 
Pietistical. 

We  have  already  shown  how  the  Moravian  Brethren  had 
succeeded  in  founding  a  society  in  Basle;  how  the  German 
Christian  Society, — originated  by  Urlsperger, — here  found  its 
special  soil,  and  how  Basle  became  a  center,  amid  various 
destructive  forces,  to  which  many  who  had  striven  for  inward 
fellowship  of  faith  might  cast  their  eyes.1  It  also  came  to 
pass  that,  together  with  the  newly  awakened  interest  in  the 
great  undertakings  of  the  common  Christian  spirit,  Basle  was 
first  of  all  cities  on  the  Continent  to  originate  a  Mission 

1  Comp.  Vol.  I.  p.  394  ff. 


INFLUENCE  OF  GERMAN  THEOLOGY  ON  SWITZERLAND.  411 

School.1  This  occurred  in  1816,  while  its  Bible  Society  had 
been  founded  some  years  before.  Both  these  institutions, 
branches  from  which  sprang  out  on  different  sides,  were 
greeted  by  some  with  love  and  enthusiasm,  but  by  others 
were  despised  as  a  mere  partisan  affair. 

But  learning,  like  practice,  could  not  long  remain  in  ob- 
scurity. The  restoration  of  the  University  in  1817 — 1820, 
and  the  call  of  De  Wette,  must  be  regarded  as  important 
events  by  all  who  have  an  insight  into  the  intellectual  develop- 
ment of  our  community.  From  those  events  theological  study 
first  regained  life  and  connection;  and  in  consequence  of  them 
an  alliance  was  effected  with  German  science.  While  the 
practically  pious  and  scientific  interests,  as  simultaneously 
exhibited  from  different  points,  did  not  harmonize  in  the  be- 
ginning, there  must  and  should  be  two  elements — science  and 
practical  piety — which  should  ever  remain  the  vital  forces 
of  Protestantism,  become  accustomed  to  each  other,  learn 
mutual  respect,  and  supplement  each  other,  so  as  finally  to 
become  a  living  organism.  What  has  not  yet  universally  come 
to  pass,  has  not  only  become  a  fact  in  Switzerland  but  else- 
where, in  isolated  cases;  and  the  further  accomodation  of 
extremes  must  proceed  from  that  true  theological  sentiment 
on  which,  as  a  basis,  all  the  real  pillars  of  the  church  must 
rest. 

Lately  Zürich  and  Berne  have  established  themselves  on 
the  footing  of  the  German  universities,  and  have  filled  their 
positions  of  instruction  in  part  by  German  theologians  of 
acknowledged  reputation.  On  the  other  hand,  the  German 
universities  are  more  attended  by  Swiss  young  men  than 
formerly,  and  though  different  tendencies  have  arisen  at 
home  and  abroad,  we  must  not  forget  the  incalculable  in- 
fluence of  Schleiermacher  on  Switzerland.  If  we  except 
Würtemberg,  he  has  probably  influenced  our  country  more 
than  any  other.  The  school  of  Bonn,2  which  probably  numbers 

1  For  further  particulars  we  refer  to  the  work  of  Inspector  "W.  Hoff- 
mann: Die  evangelische  Äfissionsjesellschaft  zu  Basel.  Basle,  1842. 

2  That  is,  the  school  of  Nitzsch,  with  which  the  further  schools  of 
Julius  Müller,  Dorner,  and  others,  with  minor  fractions,  have  since  united. 

Vol.  II.— 27 


412 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


most  adherents  among  the  young  clergy,  has  its  deep  scientific 
root  in  the  theology  of  Schleiermacher.  Yet  the  life  of  the 
church  does  not  depend  upon  the  school  alone,  nor  upon  the 
views  and  opinions  of  learned  men,  though  they  be  of  the 
first  magnitude;  and  this  is  the  fact  in  Switzerland  not  less 
than  in  Germany.  Consequently,  after  having  spoken  of  the 
farthest  limits  and  points  where  Christian  life  appears  more 
theoretical,  we  must  descend  into  the  quiet  vale  of  the  com- 
mon life  of  the  Swiss  who  speak  the  German  language,  and 
see  what  is  the  character  of  their  Protestantism. 

Until  the  time  of  the  French  Revolution  the  Swiss  were  an 
ecclesiastical  people,  and  though  there  were  isolated  bad  habits 
and  infractions  of  duty,  there  yet  prevailed  far  and  wide  in 
the  household  the  pious  ancestral  customs  of  respect  for 
the  Bible  and  love  for  public  service.  Many  peculiarities  of 
these  customs  vanished  in  the  Revolution  by  the  outwardly 
enforced  unity,  and  with  cosmopolitanism  mere  formalism  took 
its  place  in  the  mountainous  sections,  to  which  it  was  illy 
adapted.  Illuminism  gained  the  upper  hand  among  the  masses ; 
ecclesiasticism  declined  in  the  cities;  and  ecclesiastical  dis- 
cipline, which  had  already  sunken  to  a  mere  form,  wrent  to 
ruin.  But  for  Switzerland  as  well  as  for  Germany,  the  years 
of  warfare  and  the  famines  resulting  therefrom  in  1816  and 
1817,  were  a  period  of  religious  awakening.  About  this 
time  the  popular  mind  was  appealed  to  from  two  different 
quarters.  On  the  one  side  a  writer  who,  though  not  a  Swiss 
by  birth,  and  still  less  a  professional  theologian,  made  the 
attempt,  through  the  agency  of  a  periodical  sheet,  to  lead 
back  the  attention  of  the  cultivated  classes  to  religious  life; 
and  this  he  would  accomplish,  not  so  much  by  a  thorough 
discussion  of  all  the  unsettled  religious  questions,  as  by  an 
easy  and  dexterous  removal  of  everything  which  produced 
confessional  and  doctrinal  extremes,  by  the  silent  commingling 
of  diverse  elements,  and  by  the  enforcement  of  a  universal 
religious  element,  especially  of  morals,  so  far  as  this  result 
can  be  produced  by  aesthetic  union,  and  made  acceptable  to 
the  educated. 

Thus  there  proceeded  from  Aarau  the  Hours  of  Devotion,  which 


SWITZERLAND:  THE  HOURS  OF  DEVOTION.  413 

vary  soon  gained  not  only  many  admirers  at  home,  but  going 
from  beyond  Switzerland  into  the  most  distant  North,  awakened 
an  interest  which  was  long  increased  by  the  charm  of  the 
anonymous  character  of  the  work.1 

We  shall  best  describe  the  book  if  we  term  its  spirit  that 
of  a  sentimental  Rationalism,  thus  placing  it — excepting  its 
greater  variety  of  matter — with  Tiedge's  Urania,  WitschcVs 
Morning  and  Evening  Offerings,  and  similar  books,  of  which 
we  have  already  spoken.  It  addressed  itself  chiefly  to  con- 
temporaries, as  was  shown  by  its  many  editions  and  rapid 
sale.  We  should  certainly  be  unjust  to  deny  that  it  awakened 
in  many  a  young  man  and  young  woman  a  sentiment  for  intro- 
spection and  the  contemplation  of  nature,  and  in  many  culti- 
vated families  it  was  a  source  of  edification  and  blessing, 
while  it  restored  to  honor  the  word  "  devotion,"  which  had 
been  almost  universally  heard  with  distrust.  This  can  be 
denied  only  by  gross  passion,  or  so  far  perverted  as  to  be  term- 
ed the  "  work  of  Satan."  But  we  are  not  unjust  to  this  book 
to  say,  that  it  deals  too  much  with  generalities,  and  dwells 
so  much  on  the  surface  as  not  to  be  able  to  lead  the  reader 
energetically  into  the  depth  of  the  Scriptures  and  of  his  own 
soul.  In  the  popular  heart  it  has  not  supplanted  Arndt, 
Scriver  and  Schmolck,  and  any  cultivated  person  who  has 
feasted  upon  such  a  book  as  the  Discourses  on  Religion, 
will  no  more  be  satisfied  with  such  food  as  the  Hours  of 
Devotion. 

Humanity  will  often  be  powerfully  thrilled.  The  same  in- 
dividuals who  have  long  been  indifferent  will  use  the  most 
extreme  and  vigorous  measures  when  the  favorable  hour 
comes,  and  the  same  language  of  contrition  is  heard  in  the 
salons  of  the  cultivated  which  is  found  in  a  rougher  type 
among  the  lower  classes.  We  have  in  mind  the  appearance 
of  Madame  Krudener  in  Switzerland,  and  the  results  of  her 
labors.  It  is  much  easier  to  pass  a  sound  judgment  on  her 
now  than  it  was  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago.  It  is  a  remarkable 
phenomenon  that  a  woman,   u  trained  in  the  dwellings  of 

1  The  secret  is  now  revealed.  See  Zschokke:  Eine  Selbstschau.  Aarau, 
1842.  Vol.  I. 


414 


IIISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


vanity"  and  "hrmbled  by  her  sins  and  errors"  (as  she  her- 
self confesses1),  had  such  a  spirit  of  self-denial  as  to  minister 
"on  a  wooden  bench"  to  the  poor  and  suffering,  to  seek  out 
criminals  in  prison,  and  to  present  to  them  the  consolations 
of  the  cross,  to  open  the  eyes  of  the  wise  men  of  this  world 
to  the  deepest  mysteries  of  divine  love,  and  to  say  to  the 
kings  of  the  world  that  everything  avails  nothing  without  the 
King  of  Kings,  who,  as  the  Crucified,  was  a  stumbling-block 
to  the  Jews  and  foolishness  to  the  Greeks.  She  was  derided, 
defamed,  persecuted,  driven  from  one  country  to  another,  and 
yet  never  grew  weary  of  preaching  repentance  "  in  the  deserts 
of  civilization,"  and  of  proclaiming  the  salvation  of  believers 
and  the  misery  of  unbelievers. 

Juliana,  Baroness  of  Vietinghoff,  was  born  at  Riga  in  1766. 
In  her  ninth  year  she  made  astonishing  progress  in  learning, 
and  won  the  hearts  of  others  by  her  child-like  amiability.  At 
this  tender  age  she  went  with  her  parents  to  Paris,  where 
her  father's  house  was  a  gathering-place  of  the  celebrated 
men  of  France,  and  where  this  vain  young  creature  soon 
found  occasion  to  play  the  wit  at  the  expense  of  her  delicate 
womanly  feeling.  She  deeply  experienced  the  disadvantages 
of  this  way  of  living.  Though  still  a  child,  her  conscience 
was  awakened  amid  the  surrounding  vanities.  One  evening 
at  Strasburg,  when  weary  and  distracted  by  dancing,  she 
fell  asleep  without  praying.  But  she  could  not  rest.  So  early 
as  her  fourteenth  year  she  was  married  to  Baron  Krudener, 
whom  she  accompanied  to  Italy,  and  with  whom  she  spent 
several  years  in  Venice.  Her  marriage  was  unfortunate.  After 
separating  from  her  husband  she  lived,  after  1791,  some  time 
in  the  house  of  her  parents  at  Riga.  Then  she  went  to  Paris, 
whither,  after  a  short  stay  in  Leipzig,  Germany,  and  in  Russia, 
she  returned  once  more  in  the  year  1801. 

While  in  Paris  she  visited  the  most  brilliant  circles,  and 
lived  wholly  in  the  world,  and  in  a  worldly  French  manner. 
She  wrote  at  that  time  her  romance  Valerie,  which  describes 
an  immoral  relation,  concealed  beneath  the  fragrant  veil  of 
romance  and  redundant  with  a  religious,  Romish,  and  fanatical 

1  See  Zeitgenossen.  Leipzig,  1838.  Vol.  III. 


MADAME  KRUDENER. 


41-3 


sentiment,  and  in  which  St.  Martin,  the  French  Mystic,  is  said 
to  have  taken  part.  Afterward  the  authoress  lived  alternately 
in  the  North  and  in  the  South,1  and  spent  some  time  on  the 
Rhine.  In  Carlsruhe  she  became  acquainted  with  Jung- 
Stilling,  and  in  the  Autumn  of  1814  appeared  again  in  Paris. 
The  religious  meetings  held  there  in  her  house  created 
attention;  in  the  following  year,  however,  she  withdrew  to 
Switzerland,  where  she  designed  to  establish  a  mission  of 
her  own.  It  is  not  necessary  to  speak  of  her  stay  in  Basle 
and  its  vicinity,  and  afterward  in  Aargau,  Lottstetten  (near 
Schaffhausen),  and  other  places.  On  this  point  we  have  been 
lately  supplied  with  much  interesting  matter  in  a  Biography 
of  her  by  a  Schaffhausen  clergyman.2 

As  for  the  subsequent  history  of  this  remarkable  woman  and 
her  companions,  we  shall  only  recall  the  following:  Wherever 
she  stepped  her  foot,  great  multitudes  of  people  physically 
and  spiritually  hungry,  of  sufferers  of  every  class,  and  persons 
without  regard  to  confession,  surrounded  her  and  received 
from  her  food — yea,  wonderful  food.  The  woes  which  she  pro- 
nounced on  the  body  and  soul  of  the  impenitent  awakened  in 
many  an  oppressed  and  troubled  spirit  a  feeling  of  joy  at  misfor- 
tune, while  many  a  genial  word  of  love  fell  into  good  ground. 
Rumor  was  busy  on  the  one  hand  in  clothing  her  with  the 
glory  of  a  chosen  saint,  a  prophetess,  and  worker  of  miracles, 
and  on  the  other  in  declaring  her  a  fool  and  a  hypocrite. 
Passion  oscillated  in  the  public  judgment  between  favor  and 
hostility  to  her ;  and  yet  amid  all  gainsaying  the  civil  authorities, 
in  their  great  perplexity,  knew  not  what  to  do  except  drive 
her  from  country  to  country,  until  she  reached  her  home  in 
the  North.  But  she  had  no  rest  even  there.  Finally,  de- 
claring herself  in  favor  of  Greek  independence,  she  was  driven 
from  St.  Petersburg.  She  then  proceeded  to  Livonia,  and 
finally  to  the  Crimea,  where  she  died  on  the  13th  of  December, 
1824,  of  a  painful  illness. 

1  Empeytas,  of  Geneva,  afterward  a  leader  of  the  Momiers,  was  one 
of  her  adherents. 

2  See  Erinnerungen  an  J.  C.  Maurer,  Bilder  aus  dem  Leben  eines 
Predigers.  Schaffhausen,  1843. 


416 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


If  we  inquire  after  the  traces  which  she  left  in  Switzerland, 
we  shall  find  that  excitement  and  fanaticism  are  attributed 
to  her  and  her  influence.  It  is  hard  to  decide  whether  the 
opinion  is  just  or  not.  It  is  very  certain  that  recent  Swiss 
separatism  has  old  historical  roots,  and  perhaps  can  be  traced 
back  to  the  time  of  the  Reformation.  But  if  new  sprouts 
sprang  from  these  old  roots,  and  if  even  new  roots  did 
here  and  there  branch  out,  was  it  not  perfectly  natural 
that  a  fruitful  rain  which  was  poured  upon  the  land  in  a 
time  of  drought  should  cause  the  weeds  to  grow  with  the 
good  grain?  Madame  Krudener  must  not  be  made  responsible 
for  the  weeds  alone.  Though  her  sowing  among  the  great 
popular  masses  may  have  been  followed  by  some  unsafe  re- 
sults, her  example  was  of  great  influence  in  awakening  the 
desire  for  a  deeper  and  more  serious  life  of  the  soul  in  the 
highest  circles  of  society;  for  the  establishment  of  the  Holy 
Band  was  in  part  her  work.  Her  labors  had  certainly  an  ob- 
scure element,  and  this  obscurity  reveals  itself  more  particu- 
larly in  her  incorrect  view  of  the  nature  of  Protestantism, 
which  she  rejected  in  name,  and  to  which  she  made  the  un- 
timely admixture  of  Catholic  elements.  She  hoped  by  this 
means  to  advance  the  period  when  there  should  be  one  flock 
and  one  Shepherd;  but  it  is  also  very  apparent  here  that 
whoever  attempts  to  unite  in  the  wrong  place,  and  prema- 
turely, makes  the  rent  all  the  larger,  and,  instead  of  gathering 
together,  only  scatters  abroad.  The  divisions  among  the 
Reformed  henceforth  gained  the  upper  hand — which,  indeed, 
was  no  great  misfortune,  since  they  brought  on  a  crisis. 

The  crucifixion  of  Margaret  Peter  and  her  brothers  and 
sisters,  whose  fanaticism  had  a  Krudenerian  character,  oc- 
curred in  the  year  1823  in  the  Zürich  village  of  Wilden- 
spuch,  and  created  a  serious  admonitory  impression  against 
the  unrestricted  force  of  gloomy  religious  enthusiasm.1  Also 
the  Anabaptist  element,  and  particularly  its  old  Gichtelian 
leaven,  began  to  revive  here  and  there  in  Switzerland.  A 
certain  Anton  Unternährer  of  Entlibuch  had  announced  him- 
self as  the  Messiah  in  1801,  before  Madame  Krudener  had 

1  See  Meyer:  SchioärmerUclie  Greuelscenen  in  Wildenspuck.  Zürich,  1S24. 


THE  CALL  OF  STRAUSS  TO  ZURICH. 


417 


entered  Switzerland,  and,  after  various  adventures,  terminated 
his  life  in  prison  in  1824.  From  him  came  the  Antonian 
sect,  which  found  adherents  in  the  Canton  Berne  and  else- 
where, and  was  somewhat  affiliated  with  the  early  sect  of 
Brugglers.  From  its  fold  sprang  Christian  Michel  and  his 
followers.1  In  Eastern  Switzerland  the  Neo-Baptists,  who  had 
gained  some  prestige  in  Germany,  and  especially  in  Wiirtem- 
berg,  came  into  conflict  with  the  civil  authorities.2 

But  no  occurrence  has  lately  taken  so  deep  a  hold  upon  the 
religious  life  of  the  people  of  Protestant  Switzerland,  and  pro- 
duced such  a  perturbation  of  mind,  as  the  proposed  call  of  Dr. 
Strauss  to  Zürich  in  the  year  1839,  which  was  the  result  of 
the  political  disruption  of  1830. 3  This  movement  was  more 
or  less  affected  by  political  sympathies  and  partialities.  It 
is  remarkable  that,  in  the  very  canton  where  Rationalism  had 
found  more  favor  for  half  a  century  than  in  any  other  part 
of  Reformed  Switzerland,  the  antagonism  to  the  Straussian 
tendency  was  so  powerful,  and,  using  the  word  in  a  good 
sense,  so  passionate.  But  we  must  not  forget  that  the 
Rationalism  of  the  older  school  saw  itself  in  danger,  by  this 
pantheistic  tendency,  of  losing  the  very  tiling  to  wdiich  it  had 
adhered:  the  personality  of  God  and  personal  immortality. 
Moreover,  the  people,  especially  the  rural  population,  had 
accepted  very  little  of  the  older  Rationalism  of  the  clergy. 
Orthodoxy,  though  somewhat  formal,  still  lived  in  the  popular 
heart,  and  the  Supernaturalism  of  Berlin  and  Bonn  gained  new 
prestige  by  the  labors  of  the  younger  clerical  generation.4 

1  See  further  particulars  in  Zyro's  Chr.  Michel  und  seine  Anhänger,  and 
Trechsersi?ei''rä7e  zur  Gesch.  der  Schweiz,  ref.  Kirche  des  Kanton  Bern.  Part  J. 

2  Small  congregations  have  been  baptized  in  Germany  by  the  English 
missionary  and  Baptist  preacher  Oncken.  See  Grüneisen,  in  Illgen's 
Zeitschrift,  1841.   Part  I. 

3  Comp.  Geizer:  Die  Straussischen  Zerwürfnisse  in  Zurich  von  1839. 
Hamburg,  1843. 

4  This  modern  orthodoxy  is,  however,  opposed  (though  latterly  in  a 
modified  form)  by  the  speculative-critical  tendency,  which  is  connected 
with  the  Tiibingen  School,  and  whose  organ  was  for  some  time  the 
Kirche  der  Gegenwart.  Zeller's  call  to  Berne  was  only  of  passing  im- 
portance. An  accommodating  tendency  has  been  advocated  by  the  Kirchen- 


418 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


At  the  present  moment  we  find  an  element  which  we  have 
had  occasion  to  notice  from  the  outset,  and  to  which  we  have 
frequently  recurred:  that  wherever  Protestantism  has  pur- 
posely assumed  a  negative  character,  there  has  arisen  in 
antagonism  to  it  a  fixed,  positive,  and  decided  confession. 
And  thus  we  see  here,  too,  the  positive  power  of  Protestantism, 
as  taking  a  deep  root  in  Christian  people,  and  constituting 
a  powerful  counterpoise  to  the  one-sidedness  of  a  criticism 
at  once  destructive  and  disconnected  from  all  vital  interests. 
But  a  victory  gained  in  this  way  is  no  apology  for  limiting 
the  free  development  of  learning.  A  praiseworthy  explanation 
of  sentiment  is  no  solution  of  a  scientific  problem.  The  prog- 
ress of  the  freest  inquiry  should  not  be  impeded,  but  only 
directed  in  its  course. 

Science  and  the  church  have  their  special  paths  —  at  least 
for  a  time — though  they  must  not  always  be  separate,  and 
ignore  each  other,  but  be  of  mutual  aid  in  the  free  develop- 
ment of  life,  until  both  arrive  at  maturity.  The  people  must 
not  be  blamed  if  they  cast  the  unripe  fruit  of  science  into  the 
same  heap  with  the  poisonous  fruit,  for  both  may  produce  death. 
The  wise  gardener  therefore  lets  the  unripe  fruit  hang  until 
perfected  by  the  strengthening  and  mild  sunshine  which  God 
gives  it,  or  until  it  proves  itself  to  be  a  bitter,  sapless,  and 
weak  product,  on  which  he  has  lavished  his  care  in  vain. 
Only  let  him  not  rob  the  community,  which  is  longing  for 
refreshment,  of  the  valuable  provision  which  it  possesses,  and 
which  it  knows  by  experience  contains  a  blessing,  though 
occasionally  a  person  may  be  found  to  ascribe  those  benefits  to 
the  husk  which  he  cannot  separate  from  the  kernel.  A  spoiled 
taste  has  often  prematurely  cast  away  what  the  adept  restored 
to  honor,  because  he  knew  how  to  cultivate  in  it  the  true 
principle  of  nourishment.  If  we  pass  through  the  history  of 
theological  science,  especially  that  of  the  last  fifty  years,  we 
shall  easily  find  examples  in  point.  In  short,  we  have  not 
arrived  at  the  end  of  our  science,  and  the  disorder  threatens 

blatt  für  die  reformirte  Schiceiz,  which  has  appeared  since  1845  [Just  discon- 
tinued.—  J.  F.  H.].  —  Finsler's  Kirchliche  Statistik  der  ref.  Schtceiz  (Zürich. 
1654,  '56.  Yol.  II.)  gives  a  satisfactory  survey  of  the  state  of  the  Swiss  church. 


HISTORICAL  REACTIONS  AND  RETROGRESSIONS.  419 


to  be  all  the  greater  in  consequence  of  unmixed  skepticism. 
But  we  must  not  grow  weary  of  arranging  and  of  supervising, 
for  careful  labor  will  surely  be  followed  by  success. 

As  for  the  Swiss  church,  we  will  not  renounce  the  hope 
that,  when  once  the  storms  which  agitate  the  Catholic  and 
Protectant  districts  shall  have  subsided,  the  time  will  come 
when  the  true  company  of  vigorous  and  clear  sighted  (licht- 
voll1) believers  will  rejoice  over  their  possession  of  the  universal 
vital  principle,  and  be  delivered  from  the  admixture  of  base 
elements.  We  do  not  desire  a  mere  return  to  the  good  old 
times.  My  narrative  would  be  in  vain  if  any  one  of  us  should 
indulge  this  languid  hope,  for,  I  believe,  the  view  we  have 
gained  from  the  foregoing  lectures  in  relation  to  the  newest 
historical  development,  is  this:  Modern  culture,  as  exhibited 
in  the  different  departments  of  life,  in  philosophy,  literature 
and  education,  can  be  no  more  suppressed  than  the  full-blown 
flowers  of  Spring  can  be  put  back  into  the  buds  from  which 
they  sprang,  or  the  sun  return  to  the  dark  chambers  of  night, 
or  the  stream  to  the  obscure  fountain  in  the  wilderness. 

Let  him  who  dreams  of  such  reactions  and  restorations 
forget,  if  he  can,  Lessing,  Herder,  Kant,  Schiller,  Goethe, 
Pestalozzi,  Fichte,  Schleiermacher,  and  all  the  other  heroes 
of  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  centuries,  and  push  himself 
back  into  the  times  of  the  old  polemic  theology.  Who  but 
a  dreamer  would  restore  the  golden  age  of  Luther,  just  as 
it  was?  The  nineteenth  century  can  never  become  the  seven- 
teenth or  the  sixteenth;  nor  can  it  leap  over  or  quench  the 
eighteenth,  either  by  pious  decrees  or  respectable  disregard. 
But  it  is  certain  that,  as  the  eighteenth  century  was  the 
transition  to  the  nineteenth,  so  do  we  now  stand  in  the 
middle  of  a  stream  whose  current  rushes  on  toward  a  dis- 
tant shore.    There  are  many  who  charge  others  with  being 

1  "We  do  not  mean  by  this  the  later  association  of  Friends  of  Light. 
We  cannot  at  present  describe  in  full  this  negative  tendency,  which, 
with  its  unhistorical  character,  can  lay  but  little  claim  to  belong  to 
history.  We  refer  to  Schenkel's  Religiöse  Zeitkämpfe,  1847,  a  book  which, 
as  far  as  the  latest  phenomena  are  concerned,  we  must  regard  as  sup- 
plementary to  our  own. 


420 


HIST  OK  Y  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


stagnant,  while  they  themselves  would  like  to  stand  still  with 
only  just  what  they  have  learned,  with  what  has  been  lauded 
to  them  as  illuminism.  But  the  illuminism  itself  has  become 
antiquated,  and  those  who  were  considered  men  of  progress 
fifty  years  ago  now  complain,  and  often  unjustly,  that  those 
who  have  gone  beyond  them  have  only  returned  to  the  olden 
times,  simply  because  such  appears  to  them  to  be  the  fact. 
Not  everything  which  seems  to  be  retrogression  is  really  such; 
neither  is  that  always  progress  which  makes  the  boast. 

The  vibrations  of  history  are  not  like  the  oscillations  of  a 
pendulum,  which  is  always  forced  from  its  equilibrium  yet 
ever  strives  to  regain  it.  Whenever  a  period  of  torpid  faith 
arrives,  and  the  light  of  science  is  placed  under  a  bushel, 
the  demand  of  the  thinking  mind  is  made  in  a  manner  cal- 
culated to  injure  faith;  whenever  knowledge  is  puffed  up  in 
vain  theorizing,  and  unbelief  ascends  the  throne,  the  power 
of  faith  again  arises,  assigns  limits  to  pride,  hurls  even  the 
masters  of  knowledge  from  their  usurped  seats,  and  then,  at 
the  proper  time,  can  prescribe  for  fortune  its  appropriate 
limits.  It  is  permitted  to  only  a  few  to  preserve  this  equilib- 
rium amid  such  vibrations,  and  to  restore  it  to  their  con- 
temporaries. Only  a  few  have  the  art,  as  Schleiermacher 
once  said  of  himself,  to  place  the  foot  on  the  side  of  the 
boat  which  needs  a  counterpoise ;  most  people  seek  the  center 
of  gravity  with  the  majority  and  in  the  majority,  and  thus 
press  on  the  side  until  the  ship  is  overturned.  But  God  be 
praised  that  there  is  some  One  else  at  the  helm  besides  our- 
selves, and  that  He  controls  the  winds  and  waves,  and  knows 
when  to  apply  His  own  power  to  still  the  storm,  though 
just  then  many  are  in  dismay,  and  cry:  "All  is  lost!" 

We  live  in  a  wonderful  age,  when  unbelief  and  superstition 
are  striving  for  the  mastery,  and  when  certain  people  think 
that  they  advance  science  by  cutting  off  the  roots  and  tendrils 
of  faith,  while  others  imagine  that  they  render  faith  a  service 
by  clipping  the  wings  of  knowledge  and  research,  or  by  closing 
the  eyes  when  the  light  is  brilliant.  The  light  of  the  former 
class  is  like  the  aurora  borealis,  shooting  above  a  land  stiffened 
in  ice  but  yet  giving  no  warmth,  while  the  heat  of  the 


TRUTH  NOT  DEPENDENT  ON  FORMS. 


421 


latter  class  is  like  a  consuming  fire,  whose  smoke  and  vapor 
darken  the  land.  Oh,  that  light  and  warmth  would  again 
unite  in  the  right  place  and  in  the  proper  way,  and  that, 
like  an  electro-magnetic  force,  they  would  pervade  our  ecclesi- 
astical community,  and  dwell  in  it  as  a  vital  principle,  so 
that,  the  light  being  here  and  the  heat  there,  the  church 
might  become  productive  by  their  united  agency !  I  do  not  know 
a  charm  that  can  unite  the  two,  and  such  a  one  will  not 
soon  be  found.  He  who  waits  for  it,  will  wait  in  vain;  and 
he  who  thinks  to  aid  its  arrival  by  a  doctrinal  statement  or 
a  philosophical  abracadabra,  does  not  know  what  he  is  about. 
Truth  depends  not  on  forms.  It  is  not  an  affair  to  be  com- 
prehended in  an  exterior  sense,  and  which,  having  been  once 
issued,  can  be  forever  taken  about  in  the  pocket  as  a  letter 
or  a  seal.  Its  character  must  be  constantly  renewed;  its 
seal  must  be  always  imprinted  afresh;  it  must  ever  be  born 
anew  of  the  Spirit. 

True,  there  are  eternal  truths,  which  are  laid  down  for  us 
in  the  Holy  Scriptures ;  and  thus  far  these  truths  are  pledges 
and  seals  for  us  once  for  all.  But  if  we  look  at  the  Script- 
ures impartially,  they  do  not  impress  us  as  being  juridical 
documents  or  statutes  of  faith;  but  as  they  arose  from  vital 
relations,  so,  when  the  times  and  relations  of  men  change,  must 
they  be  applied  to  these  changed  times  and  relations,  and  there- 
fore ever  be  read  anew  with  spiritual  eyes,  as  with  Luther,  with 
the  most  pious  and  spiritual  men  of  a  later  period,  with  Arndt 
and  many  Mystics,  with  Claudius,  Herder,  Lavater,  Hamann, 
Steffens  and  others.  The  Spirit  moves  as  a  mediator  between 
the  time  of  the  sacred  writers  and  our  own,  and  he  who  does 
not  live  in  connection  with  the  spiritual  current  in  which  his 
times  have  cast  him,  will  not  and  can  not  understand  what 
aid  the  Scriptures  can  afford  him.  Raupach,  in  his  Erdennacht, 
thus  speaks  beautifully  on  this  point: 

"As  stars  by  night  must  show  the  mariner 
The  course  his  voyage  takes,  and  his  own  art 
Must  teach  him  how  to  shun  abyss  and  rock; 
So  doth  God's  "Word  reveal  the  heavenward  road, 
Yet  never  builds  a  bridge,  or  hews  a  path, 
If  stream  or  rock  obstruct  the  wanderer's  steps." 


422 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


We  would  not,  however,  recline  upon  a  positive  communication, 
though  it  be  the  definite  statements  of  the  Scriptures  them- 
selves, as  upon  a  soft  cushion,  and  declare  that  the  pros- 
perity of  the  church  is  dependent  upon  binding  definitions.  By 
saying  so,  we  convert  them  into  such  a  cushion.  We  must  think 
and  labor,  and  desire  to  exercise  the  soul;  but  at  the  basis  of 
this  disposition  and  striving  there  must  lie  an  implicit  con- 
fidence in  the  power  of  truth  and  a  candid  and  sincere  love 
of  it, — which  can  only  be  acquired  and  preserved  from  the 
admixture  of  vanity  and  selfishness  by  ever  descending  afresh 
into  the  lowest  depths  of  our  consciousness,  by  daily  penitence, 
and  by  constantly  yielding  with  patience  and  submission  to 
that  trial  and  purification  by  which  God's  Spirit  designs 
to  train  every  one  subjected  to  its  discipline.  Thus  Luther 
arose  through  sorrow  and  distress  to  the  light  of  truth,  in 
spite  of  the  disputes  of  sophists.  Protestantism  must  also  be 
elevated  to  this  stage  of  freedom,  which  is  highest  because 
inwardly  established;  and  until  it  reaches  that  position  its 
history  will  not  be  complete.  But  it  must  pass  through  con- 
flicts on  the  way.  Truth  is  not  purchased  by  a  small  outlay ; 
it  cannot  be  simply  excogitated,  excavated,  inquired  after  or 
ingeniously  devised;  still  less  can  it  be  imperiously  obtruded. 
It  L.ust  be  morally  acquired,  produced  in  living  faith,  and 
be  found  in  God  by  prayer  and  labor.  And  every  one  must 
find  it  for  himself,  if  it  is  to  be  truth  to  him  in  the  evangelical 
Protestant  sense, — inalienable  truth,  the  soul's  great  pos- 
session. This  is  shown  not  merely  by  my  later  lectures,  but 
by  the  whole  history  of  Protestantism,  which  I  have  now 
been  tracing  nearly  ten  years. 

Whoever  will  take  the  pains  to  investigate  additionally  the 
previous  course  of  history,  will  be  assured,  that  only  those 
have  taken  a  really  advanced  step  in  the  promotion  of  truth 
who  have  made  truth  a  serious  matter,  and  who  have  ex- 
perienced its  power, — whatever  they  be  denominated  in  the 
annals  of  church  history,  whether  orthodox,  Mystics,  Pietists, 
innovators,  idealists,  pantheists,  Lutherans,  Reformed,  or 
Catholics.  The  human  and  superficial,  designed  to  elevate 
the  merely  selfish  personality,  has  ever  been  blown  away  as 


THE  FUTURE  OF  THE  PROTESTANT  CHURCH.  423 

mere  chaff;  but  many  a  beautiful  grain  of  wheat  has  been 
collected  in  the  granaries,  where  thousands  have  fed  in  time 
of  hunger.  But  we  have  never  suffered  total  starvation;  the 
granaries  have  again  thrown  open  their  doors,  and  presented 
a  view  of  the  spiritual  supplies  of  one  century  as  well  as  of 
another.  The  provision  has  not  diminished;  it  could  only 
increase. 

What  shall  be  the  future  of  our  Protestant  Church?  This 
is  a  question  which  we  not  only  have  no  time  to  answer, 
but  are  not  capable  of  answering.  But  this  much  we  know, 
I  repeat:  that  we  can  not  force  matters  by  outward  forms. 
The  Spirit  must  do  the  work,  yet  not  that  spirit  which  is 
usually  called  the  spirit  of  the  times,  and  which  is  only  one 
of  thousands  of  subordinate  spirits  which  have  borne  this 
enchanting  name.  But  we  mean  the  Spirit  which  leads  at  all 
times  into  all  truth — the  Spirit  of  peace  amid  universal  change. 
We  do  not  know  when  the  time  will  come  which  we  regard 
as  the  period  of  true  Protestant  freedom.  The  signs  may 
deceive  us.  They  sometimes  indicate  one  thing,  and  sometimes 
another.  But  we  do  know  that  this  time  must  come.  It  may 
be  far  off  in  the  distance,  or  perhaps  it  is  much  nearer  than 
we  have  ever  dared  to  hope  or  think. 


LECTURE  XX. 


BRIEF   SURVEY  OF  THE    HISTORY  OF   THE    ROMAN  CATHOLIC 

CHURCH,  WITH  SPECIAL  REGARD  TO  THE  PROTESTANTISM 
ARISING  WITHIN  IT  SINCE  THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  EIGHT- 
EENTH CENTURY.  —  PASQUIER  QUESNEL,  AND  THE  CONTRO- 
VERSY ON  THE  CONSTITUTION.  —  THE  APPELLANTS  AND 
CONVULSIONISTS.  —  THE  JESUITS  IN  PARAGUAY. —  ABROGA- 
TION OF  THE  ORDER.  —  GANGANELLI.  —  LIBERAL  TENDEN- 
CIES IN  GERMANY.  —  JUSTIN  FEBRONIUS.  —  THE  ASSOCI- 
ATIONS OF  THE  ILLUMINATED  AND  MYSTICS.  —  GASSNER. — 
JOSEPH  II.  AND  HIS  REFORMS.  —  THE  STIPULATION  AT  EMS. 

—  SCIPIO  RICCI.  —  THE  FRENCH  REVOLUTION.  —  THE  THEO- 
PHILANTHROPISTS. — BONAPARTE  AND  THE  CONCORDAT. — 
ST.  MARTIN  AND  CHATEAUBRIAND.  —  NAPOLEON' S  CONDUCT 
TOWARD  PIUS  VII.  —  NEW  CONCORDAT. — THE  RESTORATION. 

—  THE  RESTORATION  OF  THE  JESUITS.  —  THE  JULY  DAYS. — 
LAMENNAIS.  —  GERMAN  CATHOLICISM  AND  ITS  VARIOUS  REP- 
RESENTATIVES: SAILER,  WESSENBERG  (AND  THE  CATHOLIC 
RELATIONS  OF  SWITZERLAND),  HERMES,  MÖHLER  AND  GÖRRES. 

—  THE  CONTROVERSY  ON  THE  ARCH-EPISCOPACY  OF  COLOGNE. 

—  MOST  RECENT  RELATION  OF  CATHOLICISM  TO  PROTEST- 
ANTISM.—  PROSPECT.  — CONCLUSION. 

In  order  to  complete  our  picture  of  the  history  of  the 
development  of  Protestantism  in  the  past  and  present  cent- 
uries, we  must  finally  cast  a  comparative  glance  at  the 
Catholic  church,  in  order  to  see  how  the  reformatory  tenden- 
cies gained  power  within  it,  and  how,  together  with  evangel- 
ical Protestantism,  which  we  must  keep  prominently  in  mind, 


JESUITISM  AND  JANSENISM  IN  CONFLICT. 


425 


Catholic  Protestantism  has  also  acquired  strength.  We  might 
have  observed  that,  since  the  Reformation,  the  Catholic 
church  has  also  endeavored  to  correct  abuses  that  have  crept 
in,  to  assign  limits  to  papal  authority,  to  reform  monasticism, 
to  promote  popular  instruction  by  improved  schools,  to  adapt 
preaching  and  public  service  to  the  changed  necessities,  and, 
by  introducing  stricter  morals,  to  recover  that  respect  for 
ecclesiastical  institutions  which  had  been  lost  chiefly  by  the 
neglect  of  former  times.  In  connection  with  this  tendency 
there  was  another,  which  made  every  effort  to  thwart  the 
progress  of  Protestantism,  to  stifle  the  rise  of  more  liberal 
ideas  and  reformatory  principles  within  the  Catholic  church, 
to  establish  the  foundations  of  the  priesthood  by  new  supports, 
and  to  widen  the  circle  of  adherents  as  much  as  possible. 
We  have  had  occasion  in  former  lectures  to  show  how  the 
latter  object  was  accomplished  by  the  Order  of  the  Jesuits. 
But  this  Order  was  subjected  to  the  most  remarkable  cas- 
ualties in  the  eighteenth  century,  and  with  and  beside  it  the 
papacy  was  also  exposed  to  severe  fluctuations. 

We  will  now  speak  briefly  of  these  general  casualties  of 
Catholicism,  and  also  look  at  those  inner  transformations  of 
Catholic  theology,  particularly  in  Germany.  We  must  go 
back  to  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century.  At  this 
time  we  find  Jesuitism  struggling  in  France  with  Jansenism, 
the  former  defending  papal  interests,  and  the  latter,  evangel- 
ical. The  controversy  acquired  new  importance  by  the  appear- 
ance of  a  devotional  work,  which  was  highly  prized  by  the 
Jansenists.  It  was  a  New  Testament,  with  explanatory  notes, 
written  in  a  strongly  evangelical  sense  in  favor  of  the  doc- 
trine of  justification  by  faith  and  opposed  to  the  merit  of 
good  works.  The  author,  Pasquier  Quesnel,  was  a  Jansenist, 
who,  having  been  driven  from  France,  resided  in  the  Nether- 
lands. The  reigning  pope,  Clement  XL,  condemned  in  1713, 
by  an  official  bull,  one  hundred  and  one  of  his  propositions 
as  heretical,  dangerous,  and  offensive  to  pious  ears.  Yet 
among  the  condemned  passages  there  were  not  only  those 
which  stand  literally  in  the  Holy  Scriptures,  but  also  in  the 
Church  Fathers,  and  especially  in  St.  Augustine. 


426 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


This  action  offended  a  great  portion  of  the  French  clergy, 
and  even  the  Archbishop  of  Paris,  Cardinal  Noailles,  opposed 
the  reception  of  the  bull.  Those  who  did  so  were  called 
Appellants.  They  struggled  a  long  time  with  the  court,  which, 
less  from  conviction  than  from  policy,  stood  on  the  side  of 
the  pope.  When  Louis  XV.  ascended  the  throne,  the  bull 
was  forcibly  executed,  but  attended  with  significant  events. 
One  of  the  Appellants,  a  Parisian  deacon,  who  afterward  bore 
the  name  of  St.  Francis  of  Paris,  had  defended  himself  even 
to  death  in  behalf  of  Jansenism,  and  was  buried  in  the 
cemetery  of  St  Medardus.  Multitudes  thronged  to  his  grave, 
where  miracles  were  supposed  to  occur,  and  where,  as  the 
story  goes,  all  who  lay  on  it  were  healed  of  severe  disease. 
The  Archbishop  of  Sens  declared  in  vain  that  these  miracles 
were  a  delusion;  the  people  decided  in  favor  of  the  saint  and 
his  miracles.  Similar  phenomena  to  those  we  observed  in 
Methodism  also  took  place  here,  and  when  the  king  was 
finally  compelled  to  close  the  cemetery,  the  ecstasies  of  the 
convulsionists  continued  in  the  private  houses.  Only  after 
some  time  did  the  affair  subside,  and,  as  Voltaire  said,  the 
grave  of  St.  Francis  of  Paris  became  the  grave  of  Jansenism, 
for  henceforth  the  whole  ecclesiastical  authority  lost  its  im- 
portance. 

The  Jesuits  left  this  field  as  conquerors,  but  a  great  re- 
pulse still  lay  before  them.  While  they  could  not  be  con- 
quered by  religious  knowledge,  as  embodied  in  Jansenism,  their 
temporal  power,  after  it  had  reached  its  climax,  was  soon  met 
by  a  determined  adversary  in  another  temporal  power.  On  the 
banks  of  the  Paraguay  and  Uraguay,  in  South  America,  a 
Jesuitical  state  had  been  publicly  organized,  in  which  the 
Order  exercised  unlimited  sway.  All  the  approaches  were 
obstructed  by  fortifications,  erected  by  the  Order.  But  when, 
by  a  treaty  between  Portugal  and  Spain  in  1750,  a  part  of 
Paraguay  was  ceded  to  Portugal,  the  Indians  refused  (1753) 
the  entrance  of  the  Portuguese.  The  Jesuits  were  considered 
the  instigators  of  the  trouble,  and  the  Portuguese  Minister, 
Carvalho,  Marquis  of  Pombal,1  determined  to  suppress  them. 

1  On  this  remarkable  character,  who  opposed  the  despotism  of  the 


REVERSES  OF  THE  JESUITS. 


427 


As  a  murderous  attack  upon  the  life  of  King  Joseph  of 
Portugal  awakened  the  suspicion  that  the  Order  was  acces- 
sory to  the  crime,  a  formal  charge  of  high  treason  was  pre- 
ferred against  it,  and  by  a  decree  of  the  3rd  of  September, 
1759,  the  Order  was  abolished  in  Portugal,  and  its  members 
were  required  to  leave  the  land  under  the  penalty  of  physical 
torture  and  fines.1  Their  return  was  prohibited  on  penalty 
of  death.  Thus  the  Order  received  an  electric  shock,  whose 
effects  lasted  long. 

In  France,  the  fall  of  the  mercantile  house  of  La  Valette 
on  the  island  of  Martinique  drew  after  it  the  fall  of  the  Order, 
since  the  Jesuits,  in  spite  of  a  papal  prohibition  of  Benedict 
XIV.,  which  prohibited  their  engaging  in  commerce,  had  in- 
dulged in  speculations,  for  the  unhappy  results  of  which 
they  were  held  strictly  responsible.  The  Order  vainly  proposed 
to  its  creditors  masses  for  the  soul,  instead  of  money.  Par- 
liament made  requisition  for  the  Jesuit  constitution  and  its 
modifications;  but  as  it  was  refused,  the  Order  was  pronounced 
a  dangerous  association  to  the  state,  and  was  therefore 
abolished,  in  March,  1764.  This  occurred  in  spite  of  a  bull 
of  Pope  Clement  XIIL,  dated  January,  1765,  in  which  the 
sanctity  of  the  Order  was  pronounced.  The  Jesuits  were 
banished  from  Spain  and  Naples,  and  from  all  places  where 
the  Bourbons  were  in  authority.  The  Bourbons  were  shrewd 
enough  to  induce  the  successor  of  Clement  XIIL,  the  skeptical 
Ganganelli,  Pope  Clement  XIV.,  to  abrogate,  after  much  de- 
lay, even  the  Order  itself  in  all  its  forms,  by  the  famous 
bull  Dominus  ac  redemtor  noster,  of  the  year  1773.  The 
appearance  of  this  pope,  and  his  decided  action  toward  the 

Jesuits  by  his  own,  and  -whose  labors  were  somewhat  reformatory,  in 
a  certain  sense,  see  Schlosser,  History  of  the  18th  Century,  Vol.  IV.  pp. 
213,  216—262. 

1  Schlosser  says  (Vol.  IV.  p.  241):  "On  the  13th  of  September  one 
hundred  and  thirteen  priests,  all  belonging  to  the  Order  (of  Jesuits), 
and  many  of  them  old  and  estimable  men,  were  forced  on  board  a 
Ragusan  ship,  and  subjected  to  all  the  inconveniencies  of  a  difficult 
voyage,  and  even  to  a  want  of  the  common  necessities  of  life,  before 
being  at  last  landed  in  Civita  Vecchia,  in  a  state  of  destitution." 
Vol.  IL— 28 


428 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Jesuits,  is  important  in  the  history  of  Catholic  Protestantism. 
It  is  curious  to  see  how  the  transforming  and  reformatory 
pressure  of  the  times,  which  affected  even  the  Catholic  church, 
reached  the  head  of  the  hierarchy;  and  thus  the  name  of  a 
pope  must  also  appear  in  the  catalogue  of  illuminists. 

Antonio  Ganganelli  was  the  son  of  a  physician.  His  early 
education  was  conducted  by  the  Franciscans,  and  great  hopes 
were  placed  upon  him.  He  had  acquired  great  honor  under 
Benedict  XIV.,  and  Clement  XIII.  presented  him  with  the 
cardinal's  hat.  He  was  elevated  to  the  chair  of  St.  Peter 
on  the  19th  of  May,  1769,  after  the  opponents  of  Jesuitism 
had  been  assured  of  his  sympathy  with  them.  Though  the 
papal  system  since  the  days  of  Gregory  VII.  had  aimed  to 
pull  down  other  temporal  authority,  Ganganelli  understood 
his  times,  and  adhered  to  the  principle  of  standing  on  a  good 
footing  with  sovereigns.  He  concluded  a  peace  wherever  it 
had  been  interrupted,  and,  in  order  to  give  no  further  offence 
to  Protestants,  forbade  the  custom  of  reading  on  Green  Thurs- 
day the  passage  in  the  communion  service  condemnatory  of  all 
heretics.  But  he  felt  the  danger  of  abolishing  the  Order  of 
Jesuits;  when  he  signed  the  bull  for  this  purpose,  he  signed 
his  own  death-warrant,  for  very  soon  after  he  was  afflicted 
by  a  weakness  in  his  limbs,  which  was  ascribed  to  Jesuitical 
poison.   He  died  on  the  22nd  of  September,  1774.1 

If  we  look  with  that  candor  which  befits  the  historian,  at 
the  efforts  of  the  Portuguese  minister  and  the  Bourbon  courts 
to  suppress  the  Jesuits,  the  result  seems  to  us  a  great  prog- 
ress; but  our  joy  at  the  triumph  would  be  more  unmixed 
if  we  did  not  have  to  confess  that  violence  had  much  to  do 
with  the  persecution  of  the  Order,  and  that  one  kind  of  des- 
potism was  only  substituted  for  another.  Moreover,  a  remark- 
able proof  of  the  different  methods  of  procedure  to  which  the 
ideas  of  tolerance  prevalent  in  the  century  would  lead,  is 
furnished  in  the  fact  that  Frederick  the  Great,  who  stood  at 
the  head  of  illumimsm,  gave  the  Jesuits,  who  had  everywhere 
been  driven  from  Catholic  countries,  an  asylum  in  Silesia,  on 
condition  of  their  quiet  life  and  laying  off  the  cloak  of  the 

1  Compare  the  official  documents,  since  published  by  Theiner. 


LIBERAL  MOVEMENTS  IN  CATHOLIC  GERMANY.  420 

Order.  In  Russia,  from  which  they  had  been  formerly  exiled, 
they  also  found  protection,  for  Catharine  II.  admitted  them 
to  the  Polish  provinces.  Yet  in  Catholic  countries,  especially 
in  Bavaria,  the  influence  of  the  Order  was  exerted  by  the 
Jesuits,  who  knew  how  to  insinuate  themselves  everywhere, 
and  work  all  the  more  dangerously  under  an  assumed  name. 
We  now  see  the  struggle  pass  over  from  the  political  to  the 
intellectual  department,  and  Germany  became  in  the  present 
instance,  as  it  had  been  in  the  Protestant  world,  the  scene 
of  the  conflict.1 

Even  in  Germany  the  Jesuits  had  exercised  an  important 
influence.  Public  instruction  was  almost  wholly  in  their  hands, 
and  German  courts,  like  that  of  Vienna  in  the  time  of  Maria 
Theresa,  and  those  of  the  Palatinate  and  Bavaria,  were  com- 
pletely beleaguered  by  them.  But  about  the  same  time  that 
politics  in  Southern  Europe  opposed  the  Jesuits,  the  day  be- 
gan to  dawn  in  Catholic  Germany,  first  in  science,  then  in 
ecclesiastical  law,  and  afterward  in  the  relation  of  the  German 
Catholic  church  and  its  clergy  to  Rome.  The  voices  which 
had  been  heard  before  the  Reformation  in  favor  of  increased 
independence,  now  came  from  the  side  of  the  Catholic  clergy. 
A  prelate  of  high  rank,  the  Archbishop  of  Treves,  John  Nicholas 
von  Hontheim,  had  published,  when  Clement  XIII.  was  the 
ruling  pope  (1765),  a  work  under  the  assumed  name  of  Justinus 
Febronius,2  in  which  he  asserted  the  old  popular  rights  of  the 
bishops  against  the  papal  chair,  and  demanded  the  return  of 
German  Catholic  ecclesiasticism  as  it  existed  before  the  time 
of  the  Council  of  Trent.  The  book  was  despised  by  the 
friends  of  the  Romish  hierarchy,  and  especially  by  the  Jesuits, 

1  Schlosser  says  correctly  (Vol.  IV.  p.  446),  that  "the  abolition  of 
the  Order  of  the  Jesuits,  the  account  of  whose  expulsion  from  Portugal 
and  from  those  countries  ruled  by  the  house  of  Bourbon  has  been  al- 
ready related  in  the  earlier  part  of  this  history,  seems  to  me  to  belong 
especially  to  German  history,  because  it  was  the  means  of  opening  a 
way  for  the  entrance  of  the  spirit  of  the  eighteenth  century  into 
Germany,  and  even  into  the  most  Catholic  portions  of  the  empire." 

2  See,  for  the  title  of  the  work,  and  further  literary  information, 
Schlosser,  Vol.  IV.  p.  449. 


430 


IIISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


and  its  author  was  compelled  finally  to  retract,  though  the 
retraction  extorted  from  the  old  man  had  no  power  to  de- 
stroy the  impression  made  by  the  book  in  the  whole  Catholic 
world.  Also  in  the  remaining  branches  of  theological  science 
the  neighboring  Protestant  countries  furnished  points  of  con- 
nection for  what  passed  under  the  name  of  illuminism,  and 
young  Catholic  clergymen  earnestly  desired  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  it.1 

Some  endeavored  to  influence  the  youth  by  better  text- 
books and  a  more  liberal  method,  and  even  the  results  of 
Protestant  criticism  were  borne  from  Göttingen  to  Mayence. 
But  timely  efforts  were  made  to  prevent  these  movements.2 
As  the  friends  of  illuminism  did  not  dare  to  declare  them- 
selves, they  had  no  other  resort  than  to  remain  in  obscurity, 
like  their  opponents,  and  to  found  an  order  which  should 
have  much  of  the  exterior  character  of  the  Order  of  Jesuits, 
but  should  secretly  entertain  a  deadly  hostility  to  it.  This 
was  the  much  discussed  Order  of  Illuminati,  whose  founder 
was  Adam  Weishaupt,  formerly  a  Jesuit  student,  and  after- 
ward Professor  of  Law  at  Ingolstadt  (1776 — 1785).  It  is 
not  necessary  to  speak  of  the  dark  ramifications  of  this  Order, 
its  relations  to  the  Freemasons,  or  of  its  final  fate.3  We 
only  call  attention  to  the  wonderful  mixture  of  skepticism  and 
mystery  in  that  period ;  for  about  the  same  time,  while  some 
in  the  Catholic  church  were  undermining  its  principles,  others 
attracted  attention  by  alleged  miracles,  and  drew  even  Prot- 

1  Read,  e.  g.,  what  Herder  (Lebensbeschreibung,  Vol.  L  p.  32),  writes 
(Aug.,  1788)  to  his  wife  from  Bamberg,  concerning  the  confusion  in  the 
Catholic  heads,  all  of  whom  declared  themselves  illuminated,  and  yet 
would  adhere  to  Christian  Catholic  doctrine. 

2  Isenbiehl,  a  Catholic  priest  and  professor,  was  imprisoned  for  deny- 
ing that  Isaiah  vii.  14  has  reference  to  Christ,  and  was  only  restored 
to  favor  after  he  had  recalled  his  book,  which  had  been  condemned 
by  a  papal  bull.  A  young  jurist,  Steinbühler,  was  arrested  in  Salzburg 
for  some  humorous  remarks  on  Catholic  ceremonies,  and  was  condemned 
to  death  as  a  blasphemer;  and  though  the  sentence  was  not  executed, 
he  died  in  consequence  of  ill  treatment. 

3  Compare  the  Apologie  der  Illuminaten,  Frankfort  and  Leipzig,  1786, 
and  Schlosser,  Yol.  IV.  pp.  463  f,  473  ff. 


JOSEPH  II.  INTRODUCING  REFORMS. 


431 


estants  within  their  magic  circle.  We  will  only  mention  Father 
Gassner,  of  Ellwangen — leaving  out  Mesmer,  Cagliostro,  and 
others — who,  with  his  exorcism  of  evil  spirits,  declared  himself 
a  worker  of  miracles,  and  ev  n  gained  Lavater  to  his  side. 

With  Catholicism,  as  with  Protestantism,  the  most  various 
shades  of  religious  life  can  now  be  found  in  harmony  and 
now  in  conflict.  Together  with  freedom  of  thought,  which  is 
not  so  decided  in  the  Romish  as  in  the  Protestant  church, 
and  which  was  therefore  compelled  to  assume  the  veil  of  secrecy, 
there  also  arose  among  the  Catholics  a  mystical  tendency, 
which,  proceeding  from  a  free  and  peculiar  impulse,  similar 
to  Stilling,  Claudius,  and  Lavater  in  the  Protestant  church, 
directed  its  effort  to  the  pious  sentiment,  and,  by  resting  on 
a  basis  of  inner  piety,  aimed  to  remove  frigid  orthodoxy  and 
a  one-sided  skepticism.  We  might  name  as  its  chief  champion 
the  noble  Michael  Sailer,1  the  friend  of  Lavater. 

Yet  before  we  trace  these  theological  tendencies  further,  we 
must  speak  of  the  ruler  who,  in  a  certain  sense,  was  to  Catholic 
Germany  what  Frederick  II.  was  to  Protestant.  Joseph  II.  had 
shared  the  regency  with  his  mother  Maria  Theresa  from  the  year 
1765;  but  after  1780  we  find  him,  as  Emperor  of  Germany,  taking 
great  interest  in  the  progress  of  skepticism.  His  plan,  which  his 
Minister  Kaunitz  shared  with  him,  was  to  place  the  Catholic 
church  of  Germany,  according  to  liberal  ideas,  in  a  position 
as  independent  as  possible  of  Rome,  and  to  introduce  into 
this  German  Catholic  church  an  enlightened  priesthood,  which, 
being  removed  from  Jesuitical  and  monastic  influence,  should 
aim  to  diffuse  a  rational  religion  among  the  people,  and  give 
the  youth  a  higher  culture.  For  this  purpose  he  forbade  the 
publication  of  all  papal  ordinances  without  his  consent,  dis- 
solved the  connection  of  monastic  orders  with  foreign  superi- 
ors, closed  many  of  the  cloisters,  and  applied  the  revenue 
to  the  parish  schools  and  seminaries  established  according 
to  his  views.    To  simplify  the  public  service,  he  introduced 

1  Schlosser,  in  his  History  of  the  18th  Century,  casts  him,  as  an  ex- 
Jesuit,  into  the  same  heap  with  knaves  and  jugglers ;  but  he  who  con- 
founds the  power  of  prayer  with  "belief  in  conjuration  and  secret  arts, 
is  unable  to  appreciate  such  men  as  Sailer  and  Lavater. 


432 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


German  hymns  and  distributed  German  Bibles,  without  the 
consent  of  the  papal  court.  In  vain  did  Migazzi,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Vienna,  who  was  at  first  an  opponent  but  after- 
ward a  friend  of  the  Jesuits,  strive  to  influence  the  emperor 
to  be  moderate  in  his  steps. 

Pope  Pius  VI. ,  whom  the  changed  times  did  not  permit 
to  summon  heretical  sovereigns  to  the  threshold  of  the  Apos- 
tolic church,  was  compelled — since  all  written  attempts  had 
failed — to  use  the  last  resort  of  a  journey  to  Vienna,  in  the 
year  1782.  An  old  man,  of  handsome  appearance  and  form, 
and,  though  unhealthy,  yet  eloquent  and  gifted  with  a  melodi- 
ous voice,  he  was  self- sufficient  enough  to  suppose  that  im- 
portant results  could  follow  this  journey.  But  he  achieved 
no  more  than  to  be  treated  with  great  respect,  and  to  leave 
behind  with  the  people,  on  whom  he  had  pronounced  his 
blessing,  an  imposing  impression.  He  did  not  rescue  a  single 
cloister  whose  downfall  had  been  determined,  nor  succeed  in 
changing  the  emperor's  mind.1  But  yet  Joseph  II.  could  not 
permanently  establish  his  reforms.  We  have  not  time  to  enter 
upon  a  criticism  of  his  reformatory  plans,  although  there  is 
a  resemblance  between  them  and  Luther's  fundamental  ideas. 
But  history  has  already  taught  us  that  far  too  much  reform  has 
been  attempted  on  abstract  theories,  without  recognizing  the 
real  necessities  of  the  people  and  the  times,  and  that  a  well- 
meant  zeal  can  sometimes  degenerate  into  arbitrary  violence.2 

1  The  Viennese  jested  that  the  pope  had  read  mass  in  Vienna  with- 
out a  Credo  for  the  emperor  or  a  Gloria  for  himself. 

2  In  comparing  Joseph  II.  with  Frederick  II.,  we  find  the  foundation 
of  their  philosophical  and  religious  perception  the  same  throughout; 
but  Joseph  showed  himself  more  Protestant  than  Frederick,  by  not 
wishing  merely  to  think  liberally  himself,  but  by  allowing  his  people 
to  be  a  people;  he  wished  to  make  them  happy  by  reform.  His  illumi- 
nism  became  his  religiousness,  and  it  was  a  matter  of  his  heart  and 
conscience,  while  with  Frederick  the  Great  it  was  a  thing  of  the  under- 
standing. Of  course,  amiable  enthusiasm  could  degenerate  into  skeptical 
fanaticism;  limits  were  assigned  to  illuminism  with  the  same  violence 
with  which  it  had  been  propagated.  For  example,  Joseph,  with  all  his 
tolerance,  treated  severely  the  Deists,  who  adhered  to  no  positive 
religion.    They  were  compelled,  under  the  penalty  of  transportation. 


SUBVERSION  OF  THE  REFORMATORY  MEASURES. 


433 


The  most  important  event  in  the  German  Catholic  church 
during  Joseph's  reign  was  the  Conference  of  the  German 
Electors  and  the  Archbishops  of  Mayence,  Treves,  Cologne 
and  Salzburg  in  the  Summer  of  1786,  at  the  Baths  of  Ems. 
Their  object  was,  in  spite  of  the  papal  nuncio  in  Munich,  to 
make  the  episcopal  authority  independent  of  Rome.  They 
drew  up  the  so-called  Protest  of  Ems.  But  this  beginning 
failed,  because  the  bishops  preferred  to  obey  the  distant 
authority  of  Rome  than  their  immediate  superiors,  and  they 
therefore  adhered  more  tenaciously  to  the  papal  chair. 

In  the  same  sense  in  which  Joseph  had  acted,  his  brother 
Leopold  in  Tuscany  also  proceeded,  under  the  very  eye  of  the 
pope,  and  was  sustained  by  Scipio  Ricci,  the  Bishop  of  Pistoia 
and  Prato.  In  an  ecclesiastical  convention  at  Pistoia,  which  oc- 
curred in  the  same  year  as  the  Conference  at  Ems  (1786), 
the  constitutional  principles  of  the  Gallican  church  were 
established;  and  it  was  also  resolved  to  hold  service  in  the 
language  of  the  people,  to  distribute  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and 
to  abolish  all  superfluous  ceremonies.  Here,  too,  many  bishops 
were  in  the  opposition,  and  they  had  the  populace  on  their 
side.  An  organized  riot  occurred  at  Prato,  and  another  one 
at  Pistoia.  Ricci  was  compelled  to  withdraw,  and  his  condition 
was  all  the  worse  after  the  death  of  Joseph  II.,  who  was 
succeeded  by  Leopold.  Ricci  renounced  his  office,  and  the 
establishment  of  the  reformatory  measures  was  no  more  to 
be  thought  of.1 

While  Joseph  II.  had  attempted  in  vain  a  reformation  of 
the  Catholic  church  according  to  the  ideas  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  it  now  seemed  that  the  French  Revolution,  which 

to  unite  with  either  the  Catholic  or  some  tolerated  non-Catholic  con- 
fession. A  further  regulation  provided,  that  he  who  registered 
himself  with  the  civil  authorities  as  a  thorough  Deist  should  receive 
twenty-four  blows  or  lashes,  without  a  hearing.  See  Dohm,  Denkwürdig- 
keiten, Vol.  II.  p.  279  if. — Joseph's  reforms  have  found  a  worthy  ap- 
preciation in  Gelzer's  Protestantische  Monatsblätter,  July,  1856. 

1  Comp,  the  Memoiren  des  Scipio  von  Pdcci,  from  the  French  by  Yon 
Potter  (2  vols.  Stuttgart,  1826),  and  a  selection  from  the  work  in  the 
Msangeliache  Kh'chenzeitung,  1820,  p.  270  ff. 


434 


HIS  TORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


had  meanwhile  broken  out,  would  not  only  put  an  end  to  the  priest- 
hood and  the  hierarchy,  but  to  the  church  itself,  in  every  form. 
The  extreme  distress  of  the  Catholic  church — whose  property 
was  secularized,  and  whose  priests  were  compelled  to  swear 
fidelity  to  the  civil  constitution  or  leave  the  country — and 
the  final  abrogation  of*  the  papacy  and  of  the  States  of  the 
Church,  are  not  to  be  charged  to  those  principles  of  the 
Revolution  which,  being  driven  to  the  wildest  radicalism, 
prevailed  during  the  Reign  of  Terror.  Events  had  their 
peculiar  concatenation,  for  the  very  nation  which  had  once 
shed  the  blood  of  the  Huguenots  in  streams,  under  the  pretext 
of  adherence  to  Christian  faith,  now  strove  to  destroy  all 
traces  of  Christianity,  even  to  the  reckoning  of  time;  and 
even  priests,  who,  under  different  circumstances,  would  per- 
haps have  aided  in  the  murder  of  Protestants,  now  foreswore 
their  faith  through  fear  of  man,  and  declared  that  what  they 
had  formerly  preached  was  a  delusion.  In  those  cemeteries 
where  alleged  miracles  were  once  witnessed,  there  was  now 
read  the  inscription:  Death  is  an  Eternal  Sleep.  The  vilest 
scoffs  of  human  reason  became  a  theme  of  theatrical  blas- 
phemy. After  the  existence  of  God  had  been  wantonly  denied, 
the  National  Convention,  at  Robespierre's  instance,  decreed 
a  belief  in  a  Supreme  Being  and  in  the  immortality  of  the 
soul,  and  on  the  8th  of  July,  1794,  a  national  festival  was 
celebrated  to  the  Supreme  Being  in  such  a  way  as  only 
Frenchmen  can  accomplish  such  work.1 

1  A  description  of  this  insipid  comedy  is  given  by  Toulongeon,  Eistoire 
de  France,  Vol.  IV.  pp.  349 — 351.  "We  cannot  desist  from  communicating 
a  part  of  his  description  of  the  Festival  of  Reason,  celebrated  in  Stras- 
burg in  November,  1793.  The  Minster  served  as  the  Temple  of  Reason, 
though,  in  the  sense  of  the  Revolution,  it  had  been  sixteen  centuries  a 
scene  of  superstition.  The  frontispiece  was  inscribed:  " Post  tenebras  lux." 
In  the  choir  arose  a  fabulous  mountain  of  light,  where  the  statues  of 
Nature  and  Freedom  confronted  each  other.  At  their  side  were  two 
genii,  one  of  whom  trampled  on  a  broken  scepter,  and  the  other  raised 
aloft  the  Fasces  of  the  Republic,  encircled  with  the  tri-colored  ribbon, 
while  at  its  feet  lay  the  monster  Fanaticism.  There  were  a  number  of 
grotesque  allegorical  figures.  At  the  foot  and  on  the  peaks  of  the 
mountain,  disgusting  vermin  crept  about  among  daggers  and  censers. 


THE  FRENCH  THEOPHILAN  TIIKOPISTS. 


435 


All  that  now  remained  of  Catholicism,  it  was  believed,  was 
that  faith  could  be  decreed  by  law,  and  that  Robespierre 
played  the  pope.  Not  until  February  1795  was  the  freedom 
of  religious  opinion,  and  with  it  religious  worship,  again 
allowed.  It  was  now  clear  that  neither  Christianity  nor 
Catholicism  in  its  usual  forms,  had  been  driven  out  of  the 
hearts  of  the  people.  The  masses  once  more  thronged  to 
the  churches,  especially  in  the  South  of  France,  so  that  the 
civil  authorities  were  much  concerned  lest  the  old  political 
sympathies  for  royalty  should  revive  with  Catholicism.  But 
Deism  also  began  to  seek  for  a  common  expression  of  its 
sentiments.  Though  everything  Christian  had  become  con- 
temptible to  a  great  majority  of  Frenchmen,  in  consequence 
of  the  reading  of  deistical  writings,  they  could  not  get  rid  of 
a  belief  in  eternity.  A  new  religion  must  come  to  their  aid, 
and  services  were  established  for  the  benefit  of  the  educated 
classes.  The  foundation  for  it  was  laid  in  the  year  1796  by 
five  heads  of  families,  who,  having  declared  themselves  friends 
of  God  and  man  (Theophilanthropists),  convened  every  week 
for  united  prayer,  to  listen  to  moral  remarks,  and  to  sing 
hymns  in  honor  of  God.  Very  soon  others  united  with  this 
little  society,  and  in  1797  Reveillere  Lepaux  stood  at  its 
head.  The  Directory  assigned  ten  parish  churches  to  the 
rapidly  growing  association,  and  the  new-fashioned  worship 
soon  spread  over  the  provinces. 

Now,  in  what  consisted  the  worship  of  the  Theophilanthro- 

Rabbis,  with  the  torn  leaves  of  the  Talmud,  and  Catholic  and  Protestant 
clergymen,  arose  and  hurled  anathemas  against  each  other.  Eulogius 
Schneider  figured  as  orator.  He  threw  off  the  priest's  robe,  and  blas- 
phemed Christianity.  It  is  remarkable  that,  while  many  Catholic  clergy- 
men declared  that  they  had  hitherto  deceived  the  people,  not  a  single 
Protestant,  and  not  even  a  Rabbi,  made  such  a  confession.  Indeed, 
when  a  Protestant  preacher  gained  the  platform  in  order  to  bear 
testimony  in  favor  of  the  Gospel,  he  was  vulgarly  abused  in  the  name 
of  reason,  and  compelled  to  leave  the  place  with  loud  hisses.  Then  an 
auto-da-fe  occurred  on  the  Place  of  the  Revolution,  where  all  the  books 
of  the  old  superstition,  probably  also  the  Bible  (?),  were  burnt  in  the 
midst  of  the  shouts  of  the  street-boys.  Comp.  G-ieseler,  Geschichte  der 
protestantischen  Kirche  Frankreichs,  Vol.  I.  Supplement,  p.  323  ff. 


430 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


pists?  Their  dogmas  were  limited  to  a  belief  in  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul,  and  in  the  existence  of  God,  who  stood 
supreme  as  the  exalted  geometrician  of  the  great  fabric  of 
the  universe.1  These  two  propositions,  which  were  received 
in  a  very  abstract  sense,  formed  the  staple  of  the  sermons 
and  hymns;  all  the  rest  consisted  of  a  very  general  and  in- 
adequate morality,  whose  chief  aim  was  public  utility.  A 
simple  altar — whereon  flowers  and  fruits,  according  to  the 
season,  were  placed  as  thank-offerings — and  a  rostrum  for 
the  speaker,  were  the  central  points  of  their  worship.  The 
walls  were  adorned  with  such  inscriptions  as  the  following: 
"Children,  honor  your  parents  and  respect  your  elders;" 
"Fathers  and  mothers,  instruct  your  children";  "Husbands  and 
wives,  be  kind  to  one  another."  Instead  of  the  traditional 
festivals  there  now  occurred  those  of  nature,  arranged  accord- 
ing to  the  seasons  of  the  year ;  in  the  place  of  the  sacraments 
there  were  arbitrary  and  highly  sentimental  ceremonies,  which 
took  place  at  the  birth  of  a  child,  at  the  reception  of  new 
members,  at  celebrations  of  marriage,  at  distributions  of  prizes 
to  children,  and  at  funerals.  It  was  impossible  to  avoid 
Christian  ceremonies  altogether,  although  they  were  deprived 
of  their  Christian  character.  But  for  this  very  reason  the 
whole  affair  assumed  a  mongrel  and  disgusting  type,  and,  in 
consequence  of  its  inward  hollowness  and  outward  repulsiveness, 
was  as  unable  to  last  as  a  sound  stomach  can  derive  advan- 
tage from  colored  water  instead  of  wine.  In  five  years  the 
glory  of  the  Theophilanthropists  ceased,  for  their  public 
places  of  meeting  were  taken  from  them  by  the  Consulate,  in 
the  year  1802.2 

A  new  order  of  things  occurred  in  Catholicism  with  Bona- 
parte's consulship.  People  were  again  convinced,  as  if 
awakened  from  a  delusion,  of  the  necessity  of  positively  cle- 

1  Gälte  des  Theophilanthropes,   Basle,  1797.   No.  1.  p.  36. 

2  It  is  related  that  Reveillere  Lepaux,  having  asked  one  of  his  friends 
how  to  restore  his  fallen  church,  received  this  answer:  "Go  and  have 
yourself  hanged,  and  revive  the  third  day!"  In  other  words,  the  root 
of  a  positive  religion  is  its  divine  authentication  by  history.  "Where 
this  is  wanting,  the  towering  temple  tumbles  to  the  earth. 


ST.  MARTIN,  THE  FRENCH  MYSTIC. 


437 


fined  religious  doctrines  and  forms;  and  therefore  the  Con- 
cordat between  Bonaparte  and  Pope  Pius  VII.  was  effected, 
in  the  year  1801,  as  a  work  of  political  necessity,  tha  con- 
summation of  which  was  produced  by  the  crafty  Consalvi.1 
And  as  times  of  great  necessity  and  depression  have  ever 
drawn  individuals  down  again  to  the  depths  of  religious  life, 
so,  amid  the  Reign  of  Terror,  was  Catholic  Mysticism  invig- 
orated by  the  grand  recollection  of  earlier  days,  and  in  the 
person  of  St.  Martin  it  arose  from  its  ashes  with  a  new  and 
fresh  glow.  The  same  writer  who  has  made  the  life  of 
Zinzendorf  a  subject  of  interest  to  the  reading  world,  Varn- 
hagen  von  Ense,  has  preserved  for  us  some  valuable  memories 
of  this  Mystic  and  his  relation  to  the  Duchess  of  Bourbon, 
the  aunt  of  Louis  Philippe.2  He  very  properly  describes 
i his  kind  of  religious  feeling  as  "a  beneficent  flame,  which 
reveals  the  brightest  treasures  in  lowly  and  gloomy  places." 
"It  is,"  says  he,  "just  as  all  higher  spiritual  life  now  is  in 
the  Catholic  church — half  Protestant,  though  not  discarding 
its  Catholic  form  or  assuming  a  Protestant  one."  Chateaubriand 
has  exerted  less  influence  than  St.  Martin,  by  his  work  on 
the  Genius  of  Christianity,  a  defence  of  the  romantic  Catholic 
type  of  Christianity,  and  by  his  Attilla,  The  Martyrs,  and 
other  works,  in  which  the  glowing  language  and  declamatory 
st}de  are  more  the  subjects  of  our  wonder  than  acuteness 
and  thoroughness  of  judgment.  But  Chateaubriand's  effort 
to  commend  Christianity,  particularly  on  its  aesthetic  side, 

1  Bonaparte  did  not  act  from  religious  conviction,  for,  "seldom  has 
a  prince  looked  upon  all  positive  religion  with  such  self-conscious  in- 
difference, as  something  foreign  to  him,  and  as  mere  material  and 
means.  He  declared  himself  in  favor  of  Christianity,  not  because  it 
was  of  divine  character,  but  because  it  was  useful  to  restrain  men,  etc." 
Ranke,  Histor.-polit.  Zeitschrift,  Vol.  L  p.  628.  —  The  objects  of  the 
emperor  are  better  judged  by  the  author  of  Geschichte  des  Protestantis- 
mus in  Frankreich,  Vol.  I.  p.  63,  where  he  associates  with  his  political 
purposes  also  that  of  humanity,  to  which  he  subjected  his  Catholicism. 
[See  article  by  De  Pressense  on  Napoleon's  Religious  Views  and  Ecclesi- 
astical Policy,  translated  by  the  translator  of  this  work,  and  published 
in  Hours  at  Home  (New  York),  April,  1866.] 

2  Denkwürdigkeiten,  Vol.  V.  p.  189. 


438 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


harmonizes  remarkably  with  some  similar  efforts  of  the  German 
Protestants  of  the  Romantic  school.1 

The  peace  concluded  between  the  emperor  and  the  pope 
did  not  last  long.  Napoleon  really  sought  to  restore,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  people,  the  old  dynasty  of  the  usurped  imperial 
office  by  permitting  himself  to  be  crowned  by  the  Holy  Father, 
in  the  year  1804;  but  he  so  lowered  himself  as  to  issue  a 
special  catechism  for  the  French  youth,  which  was  doctrinally 
affiliated  with  the  decisions  of  the  Council  of  Trent,  though  it 
sharpened  obedience  toward  the  emperor  as  the  fundamental 
dogma  of  French  faith.  But  the  requirement  of  this  unlimited 
obedience,  which  led  the  pope  and  the  emperor  on  an  old 
battle-field,  produced  new  difficulties.  Political  legislation 
asserted  itself  against  the  old  traditions  of  the  church  on 
almost  all  points,  particularly  in  matters  of  matrimony  and 
divorce,  and  even  the  temporal  power  of  the  pope  became 
restricted  and  obscured  in  many  ways  by  the  emperor's  plans. 
When  Pius  refused  to  aid  the  plans  of  the  emperor  against 
Austria  and  England,  he  was  again  treated  as  an  enemy. 
French  troops  occupied  the  States  of  the  Church  in  February, 
1808,  disbanded  the  College  of  Cardinals  and  the  papal  army, 
and  deprived  the  pope  of  his  temporal  authority.  And  when 
the  pope  protested,  and  made  use  of  his  old  spiritual  wTeapon 
—  the  ban  of  excommunication — he  was  convinced  of  its 
weakness.  However,  the  personal  character  of  the  man  appears 
all  the  more  worthy  in  history  by  the  fact  that,  when  thou- 
sands foreswore  or  concealed  their  convictions,  he  displayed 
that  noble  resignation  in  his  confinement  at  Savona  which 
compelled  from  his  proud  enemy  the  testimony,  that  he  was 
k'  a  truly  good  man,  an  angel  of  goodness." 2 

Napoleon  strove  in  vain  to  carry  out  his  plans  of  a  national 
church  which  should  be  independent  of  Rome,  and  whose  center 

1  Comp,  the  substantial  Protestant  German  opinion  of  Tzschirner,  in 
his  Briefe  eines  Deutschen  über  Gegenstände  der  Religion  und  Politik. 
Leipzig,  1828.  pp.  4,  14  ff. 

2  See  Ranke,  Histor.-polit.  Zeitschrift,  1832,  Vol.  I.  p.  624  ff.,  where 
there  is  an  excellent  portrait  of  the  man,  and  on  p.  635  an  acute 
parallel  between  him  and  the  Emperor. 


RESTORATION  OF  CATHOLICISM  IN  FRANCE. 


439 


should  be  Paris,  and  also  to  enforce  liberalism  upon  Spain 
and  Portugal.  The  fanaticism  of  the  Spanish  clergy  stood  as 
a  wall  in  defence  of  the  church;  and  the  synods  of  French, 
Italian,  and  German  bishops,  which  convened  in  Paris  in  1811, 
were  fruitless.  Once  more  Napoleon  sought  peace  with  the 
pope — who  was  now  in  misfortune — and  on  the  25th  of 
January,  1813,  extorted  from  him  the  Concordat  of  Fontaine- 
bleau,  in  which  the  appointment  of  bishops  was  withdrawn 
from  the  pope,  and  his  temporal  power  passed  over  in  silence. 
The  Concordat  was  published  as  a  law  of  the  emperor.  The 
pope  returned  to  Rome  full  of  sorrow,  and  after  severe  inward 
struggles ;  but  he  lived,  after  having  himself  been  released  by 
Napoleon,  to  enjoy  the  triumph  of  seeing  the  latter  forced  upon 
every  side  to  grant  the  restoration  of  the  States  of  the 
Church.  Napoleon's  downfall  followed  immediately.  The 
Catholics,  not  less  than  the  Protestants  from  their  point  of 
view,  recognized  in  the  event  the  voice  of  their  resurrection.1 
The  Restoration  under  Louis  XVIII.  reinstated  the  pope,  and 
reinstalled  the  Roman  Catholic  religion  as  the  state  religion 
of  France.  Even  the  Jesuits  were  restored  by  the  bull 
Sollicitudo  omnium,  of  August  7th,  1814,  and  they  insinuated 
themselves  under  assumed  names  into  places  from  which  there 
was  every  effort  to  keep  them  out.  As  in  the  Protestant 
church  of  Germany  there  had  arisen,  side  by  side  with  the  newly 
aroused  and  vigorous  life  of  faith,  a  bitter  spirit  of  intolerance, 
so  in  the  Catholic  church  did  the  priesthood,  which  aimed  at 
the  attainment  of  worldly  ends  more  than  the  honor  of  God, 
now  reassert  itself.  But  on  the  other  hand,  liberalism  ignored 
the  deep  relations  of  the  soul  and  the  true  moral  necessities 
of  the  nation.  And  thus  France,  which  had  once  rejected 
the  Reformation,  became  after  the  bloody  days  of  the  Revo- 
lution a  boat  plying  between  skepticism  and  superstition,  in 
which  there  were  few  who  knew  how  to  hold  the  rudder. 
But  why  should  I  treat  further  this  strife  of  parties?  We 
have  already  called  to  mind  what  Protestantism  had  to  suffer 

1  The  two  points  of  view  are  designated  by  Tzschirner,  in  his  afore- 
cited Briefe  eines  Deutschen,  published  by  Krug.  Leipz.,  1828.  (The  letters 
are  to  Chateaubriand,  De  la  Mennais  and  Montlosier.) 


440 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


in  its  external  relations,1  and  there  was  little  prospect  of  an 
inner  peace  for  Catholicism. 

The  July  days  of  1830  dashed  anew  the  hopes  of  the 
hierarchy,  and  a  Lammenais  was  needful,  to  use  the  "Words 
of  a  Believer,"  to  elevate  to  the  heavens  a  political  system 
which,  notwithstanding,  is  more  intimately  allied  to  unbelief. 
Certain  remarkable  religious  phenomena — such  as  Lacordaire, 
the  preacher  of  repentance,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  elegant 
Abbe  Chatel  on  the  other — were  among  the  many  excitements 
of  the  curiosity  of  the  Parisians.  St.  Simonism  was  as  little 
able  to  continue  as  its  elder  brother,  Theophilanthropism, 
although  it  attempted  to  revive  in  its  new-born  son,  Com- 
munism, and  made  all  the  show  of  a  new  gospel  shedding 
its  blessings  on  humanity. 

Far  nearer  to  our  present  aim  than  all  these  phenomena 
is  the  history  of  recent  German  Catholicism.  Here  we  again 
find  solid  ground;  for  a  more  intimate  reciprocity  exists  be- 
tween the  Protestant  and  Catholics  in  Germany  than  in  France. 
German  science  is  the  beautiful  bond  uniting  those  who  ad- 
here to  different  confessional  standpoints.  Even  bitter  oppo- 
nents are  at  home  in  it,  and  appeal  to  general  principles. 
Indeed,  I  affirm  that  a  scientifically  educated  German  Catholic 
can  sooner  harmonize  with  a  German  Protestant  on  certain 
fundamental  ideas  than  a  German  Protestant  can  with  a 
French  or  English  brother  of  the  same  creed.  Protestants 
and  Catholics  have  been  nourished  as  twin-brothers  at  the 
same  breast  of  German  philosophy,  though  each  one  has  as- 
similated his  nourishment  differently. 

The  Catholic  and  the  Protestant  theology  of  Germany  have 
passed  through  the  same  stages  of  development.  In  the 
former,  side  by  side  with  superficial  and  negative  Rationalism 
(which  in  the  Catholic  church  was  often  bolcler,  though  also 
more  concealed),  there  stood  a  spiritual  Mysticism;  and  there, 
too,  criticism,  idealism  and  pantheism  found  their  adherents. 
The  same  terminology,  the  same  speculative  and  dialectical 
expressions,  and  the  same  artificial  definitions,  were  used  to 
interpret  the  decisions  of  the  Council  of  Trent  conformably 

1  Vol.  I.  pp.  32,  33. 


RECIPROCITY  BETWEEN  CATHOLICISM  AND  PROTESTANTISM.  441 

to  reason  as  were  employed  by  Protestants  in  favor  of  the 
Formula  Concordiae.  But  likewise  Scriptural  research — 
Biblical  criticism  and  antiquities — which  had  been  rekindled 
by  the  Reformation,  was  diligently  pursued  by  German  Catholic 
scholars,1  and  the  Protestant  learned  from  Hug,  Jahn,  Möhler, 
and  Francis  Baader  as  the  Catholic  from  Schleiermacher, 
Lücke,  and  Neander.  Mind  had  to  "bounce  at  mind,"  as 
Luther  used  to  say,  though  there  was  something  more  than 
mere  pugilism.  Science  was  advanced  by  serious  conflict,  and 
although  there  was  sometimes  a  mixture  of  passion,  as  with 
everything  human,  there  was  a  reciprocal  respect  among  the 
better  class,  and  the  wild  fires  of  old  polemics  were  quenched. 

I  will  mention  some  of  the  best  minds  of  the  German 
Catholic  church  in  so  far  as  they  reflected,  now  in  a  milder 
and  now  in  a  brighter  light,  on  the  history  of  our  evangelical 
Protestantism.  We  have  already  mentioned  the  name  of  John 
Michael  Sailer.  The  son  of  poor  parents,  he  was  born  in 
the  Bavarian  village  of  Aresing,  near  Schrobenhausen,  in 
1751.  At  first  he  studied  in  Landsberg,  Upper  Bavaria,  and 
afterward  with  the  Jesuits  in  Ingolstadt.  In  the  latter  city, 
and  subsequently  in  Landshut,  he  was  of  good  influence 
upon  the  young  as  an  academic  teacher,  for,  in  his  lectures 
as  well  as  in  his  writings,  he  aimed  to  influence  both  their 
heart  and  their  understanding.  He  had  learnt  from  Fenelon 
the  secret  of  all  vital  theology,  and  this  (which  was  no  empty 
desire  for  the  marvellous)  attracted  him  to  Lavater.2  While 
Lavater  was  decried  as  a  Catholic  at  heart,  Sailer  was  pro- 
nounced by  the  bigots  of  his  church  a  heretic,  and  seemed  to 
the  skeptics  on  both  sides  an  ignoramus  and  a  fanatic,  if  not 
a  Irypocrite.  He  had  sore  vexations,  and  was  even  removed 
from  his  position;  but  he  was  afterward  appointed  Bishop 
and  Suffragan  of  Ratisbon,  and  was  finally  elevated  to  the 
episcopal  chair  of  that  place.  Even  in  this  high  position  he 
entertained,  though  with  requisite  shrewdness  and  circum- 
spection, a  liberal  regard  for  other  confessions.    His  works 

1  We  would  not  depreciate  the  merits  of  learned  men  of  other  nations, 
as  of  De  Sacy. 

2  See  our  Note  against  Schlosser's  opiuiou,  on  p.  431. 


AV2 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


were  read  almost  more  by  Protestants  than  by  Catholics,1 
and  though  fault  has  been  found  with  their  sentimentality, 
their  truly  beautiful  and  kindly  spirit  is  inimitable. 

Count  Ignatius  Henry  von  Wessenberg  was  another  noble 
character,  who  had  more  sympathy  with  an  ffisthetico-spiritual 
Rationalism  than  with  the  Pietism  to  which  Sailer  adhered. 
He  is  doubly  important  to  us,  first  as  a  Christian  poet  and 
writer  of  the  general  church,  who  delights  us  by  his  clear- 
ness, mildness,  hearty  and  temperate  piety,  deep  knowledge 
of  art  and  vast  learning;  and,  second,  as  a  high  ecclesiastical 
officer,  who  occupies  a  reformatory  position  within  his  own 
religious  communion,  by  virtue  of  his  conduct  toward  Rome 
and  his  labors  in  an  important  part  of  the  Catholic  church 
of  Germany  and  of  Switzerland. 

This  is  perhaps  the  most  opportune  place  to  speak  briefly 
of  our  domestic  ecclesiastical  relations.2  Catholic  Switzerland 
had  been  divided  before  the  Reformation  into  different 
bishoprics,  which  stood  in  metropolitan  connection  with  German, 
French  and  Italian  archbishoprics.3  But  soon  after  the  ecclesi- 
astical separation,  the  popes  sought,  by  the  appointment  of  a 
settled  nuncio,  to  unite  the  Swiss  Catholic  church  more  closely 
with  Rome,  a  measure  which  the  cantonal  government  opposed 
on  different  occasions.4  But  after  the  second  half  of  the  eight- 
eenth century,  the  more  liberal  views  of  church  government  which 
had  been  disseminated  by  Justin  Febronius,  and  had  acquired 
supremacy  under  the  government  of  Joseph  II.,  now  found 
favor  in  Switzerland.    Even  at  the  beginning  of  the  present 

1  Schlosser,  Vol.  IV.  pp.  472,  475.  A  Biography  of  Sailer,  as  well 
as  of  Lavater,  has  since  been  published  by  Bodemann.  1856. 

2  For  further  particulars,  see  Ludwig  Snell,  Pragmatische  Erzählung 
der  neuern  kirchlichen  Veränderungen,  etc.  Sursee,  1833. —  On  Wessen- 
berg himself,  see  the  Denkschrift  über  das  Verfahren  des  römischen  Hofes, 
etc.   Carlsruhe,  1818. 

3  Coire  and  Constance  with  Mayence,  Basle  and  Lausanne  with 
Besancon,  Sitten  and  Como  with  Milan. 

4  Thus  in  the  TJdligenschwil  affair,  in  the  year  1725,  when  the  Council 
of  Lucerne  removed  a  disobedient  priest  (Andermatt  of  TJdligenschwil), 
and  in  spite  of  the  remonstrance  of  the  papal  ambassador,  Passionei, 
and  of  threats  of  excommunication,  persisted  in  its  resolution. 


CATHOLIC  SWITZERLAND:  WESSENBERG.  443 

century  there  still  sat  in  the  episcopal  chair  of  Constance 
(though  he  resided  at  Ratisbon),  the  enlightened  Charles 
Theodore  von  Dalberg,  Primate  of  the  Rhenish  Confederation,  a 
man  who,  by  his  liberal  support  of  the  classic  poets  and  artists 
of  the  nation  belonging  to  both  confessions,  and  by  his  own 
contributions  to  science,  occupies  a  high  position  in  the  history 
of  literature.  In  the  approaching  weakness  of  his  old  age, 
he  expressed  the  wish  that  he  might  be  succeeded  by  his 
Vicar- General,  Count  Ignatius  Henry  von  Wessenberg.  The 
Chapter  and  the  Grand  Duke  of  Baden  united  in  this  wish; 
but  after  Dalbergs  death,  when  the  Chapter  nominated 
Wessenberg  as  the  Episcopal  Vicar,  the  papal  court  refused 
its  consent,  under  the  pretext  of  very  weighty  reasons  (ob 
gravissimas  causas). 

These  weighty  reasons  appeared  in  due  time.  Wessenberg 
was  charged  with  heresy.  His  reformatory  tendency,  which 
was  exhibited  in  the  introduction  of  German  hymns,  in  the 
organization  of  pastoral  conferences,  and  in  the  more  liberal 
construction  of  doctrine,  of  public  ceremonies,  and  of  ecclesi- 
astical authority,  was  obnoxious  to  Rome,1  though  there  was 
no  positive  proof  of  his  heresy.  He  finally  determined  to  go 
to  Rome  in  person.  He  reached  there  on  the  18th  of  July, 
1817;  and  although  the  Holy  Father  (according  to  the  testimony 
of  Consalvi)  regarded  the  step  of  Wessenberg  as  "  a  good  in- 
clination of  his  spirit,"  the  visit  had  no  other  result  than 
that  Rome  persisted  in  her  refusal.  Even  the  repugnance  to 
Wessenberg  had  assumed  such  a  character  in  Switzerland, 
that  it  led  to  separation  from  the  Bishopric  of  Constance,  in 
1814,  and  the  papal  party  discussed  the  question  of  insti- 
tuting a  Swiss  national  bishopric, — a  resort  which  subsequently, 
though  in  a  different  sense,  was  fruitlessly  attempted  by  the 
liberal  party  at  the  Baden  Conference,  1834.  It  is  well 
known  how  seriously  the  political  strifes  in  Switzerland  since 
1830  have  affected  the  church,  and  excited  that  army  of  pas- 
sions which  has  turned  its  weapons  against  its  own  hearth. 

It  would  be  neither  instructive  nor  edifying  to  pursue  this 

1  The  latter  especially  in  reference  to  marriage,  and  particularly 
mixed  marriages. 
Vol.  II.— 29 


4U 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


subject  further,  and  it  is  not  yet  time  to  take  an  impartial 
historical  view  of  it.  A  battle  seems  to  be  at  hand,  whose 
issue  nobody  can  foresee.  But  if  we  return  from  these  un- 
pleasant views  to  the  noble  character  of  Wessenberg,  we  find 
that  his  theological  tendency  was  not  sharply  defined.  We 
might  compare  it  to  that  of  the  Protestant  Niemeyer.1  We 
meet  with  no  elaborate  doctrinal  principle,  but  with  a  humane 
sentiment,  pervaded  by  universal  culture,  and  taking  expression 
by  choice  in  the  free  form  of  poetry.  In  that  "sentiment 
for  the  divine,"  as  he  terms  religion  in  his  poem  on  Religion, 
many  noble  Protestant  and  Catholic  spirits  sympathize  with 
him;  while  the  explanation  of  this  sentiment,  and  its  deduction 
from  nature,  revelation  and  history,  have  always  awakened 
controversy,  and  will  ever  continue  to  do  it.2 

Turning  to  a  more  systematic  character,  we  find  in  the 
Catholic  church  George  Hermes,  who,  proceeding  from  the 
Kantian-Fichtian  point  of  view,  attempted  to  harmonize  the 
theology  of  his  church  with  philosophy.  So  much  has  been 
recently  said  of  Hermesianism,  even  by  Protestants,  that  we 
must  here  add  a  few  remarks  concerning  it. 

Hermes  (born  1775),  like  so  many  talented  clergy  of  the 
Catholic  church,  —  Sailer,  for  example, — was  descended  from 
a  peasant  family.  His  parents  were  plain  country  people  in 
the  duchy  of  Münster;  and  in  the  city  of  the  same  name  he 
received  his  university  education.  He  very  early  attracted 
attention  by  his  acute  intellect,  which,  among  other  things, 
was  shown  in  the  solution  of  the  most  difficult  mathematical 
problems.  The  rise  of  the  critical  philosophy  in  Germany 
exercised  a  powerful  influence  on  his  thirsty  mind.  He  be- 
lieved that  by  doubt  he  would  first  be  able  to  arrive  at 
certitude  of  judgment  in  human  and  divine  things,  because  he 
would  only  consider  that  a  permanent  possession  which  had 
passed  through  this  purifying  process  of  examination  and 

1  There  is  the  same  tendency  in  Catholicism,  as  we  see  in  "Wessen- 
berg, and  previously  in  Werkmeister,  Dereser,  "Wanker,  and  others. 

2  W.  has  also  performed  important  historical  service  by  his  description 
of  the  great  church-assemblies,  although  there  is  here  the  same  indistinct- 
ness of  ideas  which  obtains  in  his  work  on  Fanaticism. 


HERMES. 


445 


doubt.  And  he  was  confident  that  the  orthodox  Catholic 
doctrine,  as  decreed  by  the  Council  of  Trent,  could  stand 
this  test.  He  would  not,  like  the  ordinary  Rationalists,  nullify 
and  set  aside  the  doctrine  of  the  church,  or  knowingly  pervert 
it,  or  adjust  and  idealize  it,  but  by  means  of  philosophy  give 
to  it  the  true  support  which  could  not  be  withdrawn  by  true 
reason.  He  would  not  bury  the  authority  of  the  church,  but 
every  Catholic  should  subject  himself  to  it.  He  would  only 
show,  in  the  interest  of  Catholicism,  that  what  was  accepted 
on  outward  authority  had  also  a  firm  inward  support — 
an  attempt  which  had  been  previously  made,  though  in  a 
different  way,  by  the  most  acute  Scholastics.  To  him,  "the 
skeptical  proof  is  the  root  and  condition  of  pious  faith,  just 
as  pious  faith  is  the  root  and  condition  of  all  virtue." 

In  the  year  1807  Hermes  entered  on  his  Professorship  of 
Doctrine  in  Münster,  where  his  lectures  became  very  attractive 
because  of  their  clearness ;  but,  owing  to  his  principles  on  ecclesi- 
astical law,  he  became  involved  in  a  controversy  with  the  brothers 
Counts  von  Droste- Vischering,  which  had  its  influence  on  his 
subsequent  life.  Being  called  in  1819  to  the  newly  established 
University  of  Bonn,  his  sphere  of  labor  enlarged,  and  with 
it  the  strife  assumed  greater  proportions.  Possibly  Hermes 
defended  his  system  with  a  confidence  bordering  on  obstinacy 
and  self-sufficiency,  and  merely  got  his  due  when  the  untenable- 
ness  of  his  system  and  its  inconsistency  with  Catholic  orthodoxy 
were  scientifically  demonstrated.  But  the  arms  of  science  were 
not  the  only  ones  used  against  him  by  his  opponents.  Hermes, 
not  less  than  Sailer  and  Wessenberg,  each  from  his  own 
point  of  view,  incurred  the  suspicions  of  his  enemies.  The 
more  widely  Hermesianism  spread  among  the  younger  theo- 
logians, particularly  in  the  Rhenish  districts,  the  more  anxious 
became  the  hierarchical  party,  which  at  last  secured  a  papal 
*  brief  (on  the  26th  of  September,  1835),  in  which  the  principles 
of  Hermes  were  condemned,  though  their  author  had  died 
in  1831.1 

1  It  is  remarkable  that,  shortly  before  (in  December,  1834),  the  Papal 
See  had  condemned  a  doctrine  just  the  reverse  of  that  of  Hermes.  While 
the  latter  proceeded  on  a  thorough  demonstrableness  of  Catholic  dog- 


44G 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


While  Hermes  regarded  departure  from  doubt  as  the  only 
safe  means  of  arriving  at  truth,  there  were  other  theologians 
in  the  Catholic  church  of  Germany  who,  with  a  speculative 
spirit,  took  their  stand  more  positively  by  the  formal  doctrines, 
and  then  aimed  to  show  the  truth  and  permanence  of  their 
faith,  in  opposition  to  Protestantism.  Such  a  course  appeared 
less  dangerous  to  Rome.  Protestantism  would  by  this  means 
be  much  sooner  aroused  from  its  slumber,  and  called  forth 
into  active  conflict.  We  recall  John  Adam  Möhler,  who  be- 
came to  the  Catholic  church  what  Schleiermacher  was  to  the 
Protestant,  and  who  appropriated  much  from  Schleiermacher, 
Schelling  and  Hegel,  and  applied  it  to  Catholic  purposes. 
When  Professor  in  the  Catholic  Faculty  at  Tübingen,  he 
renewed  the  old  confessional  controversy  on  the  principles  of 
the  two  creeds,  by  the  publication  of  his  Symbolism  (Mayence, 
1832);1  and  by  his  description  of  great  ecclesiastical  characters 
of  the  early  Catholic  church,  such  as  Athanasius  and  Anselm, 
he  aimed  to  awaken  among  the  younger  Catholic  priests  a 
spirit  of  deeper  speculative  inquiry  in  the  sphere  of  faith, 
and  in  connection  with  ecclesiastical  fellowship.  Whatever 
vigorous  vitality  is  possessed  by  the  most  recent  Catholic 
theological  science  is  due  to  the  labors  of  this  man,  who 
was  cut  off  early  in  the  midst  of  his  work. 

It  is  not  our  purpose  here  to  describe  the  labors  of  writers 
of  similar  sentiments.2   But  in  order  to  adduce  a  personage 

mas,  the  Catholic  Professor  Bautain,  of  Strasburg,  maintained  that  the 
dogmas  cannot  be  proved,  but  only  believed.  The  Bishop  of  Strasburg 
charged  him  before  the  Papal  See,  which,  being  as  little  desirous  of 
an  undemonstrable  religion  as  of  one  that  first  had  to  be  proved,  con- 
demned him.  Comp,  on  this  point,  and  on  Hermesianism,  Rheinwald's 
Bepertorium,  XXXII. — XXXIV. 

1  M.  was  born  in  1796,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Mergentheim,  and  died 
April  12th,  1838,  when  Professor  and  Cathedral  Deacon  in  Würzburg, 
after  having  rejected  many  other  honorable  calls. 

2  Francis  Baader,  a  distinguished  Catholic,  born  at  Munich  in  1765, 
and  Professor  of  Doctrines  there,  deserves  to  be  mentioned.  He  origi- 
nally designed  to  become  a  physician,  and  long  devoted  himself  to  the 
study  of  natural  science.  He  sought  to  establish  Catholicism  specula- 
tively, from  the  stand-point  of  Schelling's  philosophy,  and  to  reconcile 


GÖRRES. 


447 


who,  instead  of  approaching  Protestantism  in  any  wise,  waged 
a  warfare  against  it,  as  well  as  against  the  skeptical  tenden- 
cies within  the  Catholic  church,  with  vigor  and  violent 
passion,  yet  with  acuteness,  with  German  fire  and  life,  I  may 
mention  Görres.  He  is  the  personification,  in  the  nineteenth 
century,  and  in  spite  of  it,  of  the  hierarchical  Catholic  prin- 
ciples of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  established,  in  so  far  as  we 
consider  it  the  opposite  to  the  progress  of  Protestantism,  is 
not  represented  by  him,  though  such  representations  are  not 
hard  to  find ;  but  his  Catholicism  is  ever  alert,  active,  arousing, 
startling,  and  even  revolutionary,  like  that  of  Lamennais. 
These  two  hot-heads  prove,  if  at  all,  that  the  charge  brought 
against  Protestantism,  that  it  is  revolutionary,  is  puerile  in 
the  presence  of  such  revolutionists  as  the  Romish  church 
has  trained  at  every  period.  What  took  the  shape  of  French 
declamation  in  Lamennais,  was  the  most  vital  principle  in 
Görres. 

Görres  is  a  child  of  the  Revolution.  Born  in  Coblence  in  1776, 
he  shone  while  very  young  as  a  speaker  in  Jacobin  clubs, 
and  placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  political  movements. 
His  inward  life  was  based  upon  the  philosophy  of  nature;  in  art 
he  was  a  Romanticist;  he  lived  and  moved  in  the  ideas  of 
the  Middle  Ages.  He  indulged  his  spirit  of  inquiry  even 
among  the  myths  of  the  Orient.  Though  an  adherent  of 
the  political  system  of  revolutionary  France,  he  was  the 
opponent  of  everything  superficial  and  frivolous.  He  was  at- 
tached to  Mysticism,  and  a  German  at  heart.  After  he  had 
been  of  great  influence  on  the  political  sentiment  of  Europe 
by  writing  a  number  of  years  for  the  Rhenish  Mercury,  his 
notorious  work,  Germany  and  the  Revolution,  appeared  at 
the  time  of  the  Restoration,  and  brought  persecution  upon 
him.  While  a  fugitive,  he  remained  some  time  in  Switzerland, 
Strasburg,  and  Frankfort-on-the-Main,  and  finally,  in  1827, 
he  was  called  as  Professor  of  History  to  the  new  University 
of  Munich.  Though  Görres  always  manifested  strong  sympathy 

naturalism  and  spiritualism  by  returning  to  the  antiquated  and  lost 
German  wisdom.  Günther's  philosophy  of  religion  has  since  created  a 
similar  excitement. 


448 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


with  the  Revolution,  his  antipathy  to  the  ecclesiastical  Ref- 
ormation of  the  sixteenth  century  was  great,  and  he  called 
it  the  "  second  fall  of  man."  In  his  depreciation  of  this  great 
historical  fact  he  united  with  Fr.  Schlegel,  Adam  Müller,  and 
the  adherents  of  the  Romantic  school.  Consequently  it  was 
natural  that,  when  the  battle  on  mixed  marriages  broke  out 
between  the  King  of  Prussia  and  the  Archbishop  of  Cologne, 
Görres  should  enter  the  lists  against  the  temporal  Protestant 
power,  which  to  him  was  equally  odious  both  by  virtue  of  its 
worldly  and  Protestant  character.1 

The  controversy  on  mixed  marriages,  which  shook  the 
dioceses  in  Eastern  and  Western  Prussia,  and  was  com- 
municated to  other  countries,2  is  a  proof  of  the  change  of 
the  times.  In  the  period  of  illuminism,  one  can  hardly  imagine 
the  possibility  of  such  a  controversy.  But  it  was  deemed  an 
undoubted  mark  of  progress  that  the  choice  of  a  husband  was 
not  discussed  in  a  religious  light.  For  the  same  reason  most 
persons  now  look  on  the  whole  matter  as  an  indication  of  retro- 
gression. But  we  must  here  inquire :  What  is  progress,  and 
what  is  retrogression?  If  the  step  goes  beyond  indifference, 
into  the  deeper  and  more  refined  departments  of  religious 
life,  so  that  marriage  is  not  only  considered  a  civil  trans- 
action but  the  highest  communion  of  life,  based  on  the  most 
intimate  harmony  of  souls,  we  must  recognize  in  the  question 
concerning  the  religious  character  of  marriage  that  it  was 
a  progress.  For  only  where  there  is  unity  in  the  highest 
and  holiest  convictions,  where  there  is  a  communion  of  faith 
and  prayer  between  husband  and  wife,  do  we  find  realized 
the  ideal  of  a  Christian  marriage  as  portrayed  by  the  Apostle 
(Eph.  v.  25).  But  if  that  which  is  really  an  affair  of  the 
conscience,  of  choice,  and  of  volition,  be  outwardly  enforced 
by  legislation,  it  is  a  sad  confusion  of  the  moral  and  civil 
departments;  and  in  this  respect  we  must  consider  the  con- 

1  In  his  Athanasius,  Ratisbon,  1838. 

8  We  desist  from  an  elaborate  historical  account  of  the  controversy. 
Our  readers  still  remember  it  as  it  appeared  in  the  newspapers.  Hase 
gives  a  survey  of  it,  Kirchengeschichte,  6th  Ed.  pp.  589—591. 


COOPERATION  OP  GOOD  PROTESTANTS  AND  CATHOLICS.  449 

troversy  as  a  sign  of  retrogression,  in  which  either  passionate 
narrowness  or  subtle  love  of  power  had  a  share. 

When  we  compare  the  present  bitterness  of  religious  in- 
dividuals of  both  confessions  with  the  friendly  relations  that 
existed  between  them  at  the  time  of  Lavater  and  Sailer,  we 
must  ask  whether  we  should  regret  or  rejoice  over  the 
change?  I  believe  we  can  do  both.  Blind  passion  is  always 
to  be  lamented,  how  and  wherever  it  starts  up,  whether  on 
Catholic  or  Protestant  soil;  but  still  more  can  we  regret  the 
illusion  which,  by  its  hypocrisy,  thinks  that  it  deceives  God 
the  Eternal  Judge  by  concealing  worldly  lusts  and  selfish  ends 
behind  the  mask  of  spiritual  zeal,  or  even  behind  that  of 
liberality.  Thus  far  we  must  regret  the  change.  But  we 
rejoice,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the  religious  conviction  again 
assumes  importance  in  state  politics  and  in  the  opinions  of 
the  individual.  The  more  a  complete  renunciation  of  religion 
becomes  the  prevalent  tone,  the  more  welcome  must  be  every 
energetic  expression  of  piety,  where  the  latter  is  really  a 
present  fact.  It  will  also  be  welcome  to  us  in  its  sharply 
defined  form,  in  its  corners  and  edges,  which  protect  it  from 
rub,  and  though  we  would  wish  that,  where  the  highest  good 
of  man  is  concerned,  Catholics  and  Protestants  would  unite 
to  save  the  one  thing  needful,  we  well  understand  that  it  is 
hard  to  agree  on  what  this  one  thing  is. 

But  even  without  this  previous  understanding,  much  can 
be  gained  if  the  Christian  Catholic  and  the  Christian  Protest- 
ant— both  from  their  own  points  of  view — will  oppose  what 
is  unchristian  and  anti- Christian,  even  at  the  risk  of  being 
charged  by  the  children  of  this  world  with  a  secret  under- 
standing, with  an  alliance  between  Jesuitism  and  Pietism, 
between  Ultramontane  and  Methodistic  gloominess.  What  has 
not  been  called  by  these  names  ?  We  do  not  deny  the  presence 
of  extremes,  and  their  possible  collision,  in  both  cases.  But  as 
we  Protestants  have  known  how  to  distinguish  between  the  merely 
negative,  protesting  and  the  positive  form  of  Protestantism, 
between  false  and  true  orthodoxy,  between  real  Pietism  and 
its  caricature,  so  can  we  also  distinguish  between  the  extreme 
Ultramontanism  and  the  Catholicism  of  Sailer  and  Wessenberg, 


450 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


and  between  the  theology  of  Möhler  and  Hirscher  and  the  mon- 
astic and  Jesuitical  theology  which  we  still  find  in  abundance 
in  the  Catholic  world.  Only  let  Catholicism  stop  bragging  of 
this  unity!  Where  is  this  boasted  unity?  Indeed,  we  wish  Catholi- 
cism the  good  fortune  of  not  having  such  unity  (a  merely  dead 
form)  as  it  brags  of;  for  wherever  a  spiritual  life  arises  and 
takes  shape,  it  assumes  most  varied  forms, — and  just  this 
diversity  within  the  Catholic  church  has  preserved  it  from 
stagnation  and  ruin.  We  do  not  undertake  to  decide  whether 
Catholicism  will  ever  be  able  to  exhibit  a  church  without  a 
pope,  or  without  dependence  upon  him;  or  whether,  as  many 
design,  the  introduction  of  clerical  marriage  and  the  use  of 
the  mass  in  the  German  tongue  would  be  associated  with 
the  other  dogmas  and  institutions  of  the  church,  without  con- 
vulsing the  latter  to  its  lowest  foundation ;  whether  there  will 
ever  be  national  Catholic  churches  in  Germany,  Switzerland, 
France,  or  any  other  country.1 

1  Meanwhile  an  attempt  of  this  kind  in  the  Catholic  church  has  been 
made  in  the  so-called  German  Catholicism.  The  occasion  of  it  is  well 
known.  The  immoderate  enforcement  of  the  reactionary  principle,  which 
arose  on  the  exposure  of  the  Holy  Coat  in  Treves  by  Bishop  Arnoldi  (from 
the  18th  of  August  to  the  6th  of  October,  1844),  the  surprisingly  great 
movement  of  the  masses  to  this  curious  sacred  object,  and  the  miracu- 
lous stories  firmly  believed  by  the  masses,  kindled  the  zeal  of  a  dis- 
placed priest,  John  Ronge,  whose  warlike  letter  to  the  ecclesiastical 
authorities  at  Treves  awakened  great  interest.  Simultaneously  with 
this  event,  we  find  in  the  Prussian-Polish  town  of  Schneidemühl  the 
organization  of  a  "Christian-Apostolic-Catholic"  congregation  by  the 
suspended  vicar  John  Czerski,  who,  like  many  before  him,  would  not 
longer  tolerate  celibacy.  The  Breslau  congregation  gathered  around 
Ronge,  after  the  style  of  the  Schneidemiihl  congregation,  and  many 
others  followed  their  example.  There  was  a  unanimous  disposition 
to  separate  from  Rome.  The  name  of  German  Catholicism  came  of  it- 
self; it  should  express  the  national  sympathies,  and  yet  declare  that 
the  adoption  of  Protestantism  would  not  be  suitable  to  the  times,  and 
would  be  a  measure  founded  on  historical  prejudice.  The  members  of 
the  new  congregations  were  less  clear  in  their  positive  conviction,  and 
it  soon  became  apparent  that  the  two  chiefs,  Ronge  and  Czerski,  pro- 
ceeded from  fundamentally  different  religious  views;  for  Ronge  yielded 
more  to  modern  liberalism  than  did  the  more  Scriptural  Czerski. 
Czerski  was  not  contented  when  the  symbol  drawn  up  chiefly  by  Rouge's 


ADVANTAGE  OF  PROTESTANTISM  TO  CATHOLICISM.  451 


We  do  not  yet  know  what  will  become  of  our  Protestant 
church ;  but  we  may  venture  to  assert  that  the  Catholic  church 
must  necessarily  begin  its  reformation  with  the  sixteenth 
century,  and  pass  through  the  whole  process  through  which 
we  have  gone.  We  are  not  afraid  of  being  swallowed  up  by 
Catholicism,  nor  are  we  disposed  to  return  to  it  as  it  is.  Yet 
we  must  not  forget  that  the  Catholic  church,  (whether  it  will 
confess  it  or  not)  has  derived  advantage  from  the  Reformation, 
and  that  Protestantism  has  in  many  ways  helped  to  purify 
it.  At  the  same  time  we  frankly  confess  that  our  Protest- 
antism has  yet  to  pass  through  many  conflicts,  and  that  mean- 
while we  shall  be  greatly  benefited  by  the  experiences  of  our 
sister  church.  We  have  already  spoken  of  individual  apostates 
from  Protestantism  to  Catholicism.  During  the  most  recent 
period,  however,  not  only  pious  Catholic  individuals,  such  as 
Gossner  and  Hennhöfer,  but  whole  congregations,  such  as  that 
of  Mühlhausen,  have  gone  over  to  the  Protestant  church. 

These  isolated  phenomena  will  ever  occur.  It  would  be  a 
very  mechanical  notion  to  imagine  that,  in  one  or  the  other 
of  these  ways,  either  the  Catholics  should  become  Prot- 

influence  "was  adopted  by  the  Leipzig  Council,  in  Easter,  1845.  A 
separation  occurred,  which,  in  July,  1846,  resulted  in  the  positively 
inclined  Schneidemiihl  Confession.  On  the  other  hand,  Ronge  was  lauded 
on  his  triumphal  marches  through  Germany  as  a  new  Luther,  a  prophet 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  chiefly  by  such  Catholics  and  Protestants  as 
had  fallen  away  from  their  churches  and  its  positive  principles,  and 
were  seeking  to  supply  many  deficiencies  by  unsettling  the  masses. 
Since  the  Märzer  rung  enschaf ten  (?),  of  the  year  1848,  the  Eonge 
fever  has  cooled  off.  The  negative  elements  of  German  Catholicism 
have  united  with  those  of  the  Friends  of  Light,  and  the  latest  balance 
shows  that  the  net  profits  of  the  association  amount  to  nothing.  Comp, 
the  Confession  of  the  German  Catholics  in  Vienna,  by  Dr.  Pauli,  in  the 
Autumn  of  1848;  Pastor  Kampe's  reflections  thereon,  in  the  Blätter  für 
freies  religiöses  Leben,  pub.  by  him  and  Hofferichter;  and  Kampe's  Ge- 
schichte der  religiösen  Bewegungen  der  neuern  Zeit.  3  vols.  Leipzig,  1850. 
We  desist  from  enumerating  the  multitude  of  works  for  and  against 
German  Catholicism.  The  untenableness  of  the  view  of  Gervinus,  who 
welcomed  the  phenomenon  as  a  demand  ot  the  times,  because  he  regarded 
it  as  a  progress  from  Christianity  to  humanity,  has  been  shown  by 
Schenkel.    Comp.  Beligiöse  Ztitkämpfe,  Addresses  XV.  and  XVI. 


452 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


estant  or  Protestants  Catholic,  so  that  one  would  absorb  the 
other.  This  can  never  take  place.  Our  notion  is  simply  this : 
Two  powers,  the  gospel  and  the  church,  are  given  to  us  both. 
The  church  has  been  established  by  the  gospel,  and  the 
gospel  shall  be  preserved,  promulgated,  and  maintained  in 
vigorous  life  by  the  church.  But  time  has  taught  that  where 
the  church  arrogates  absolute  authority,  the  gospel  is  suffo- 
cated and  displaced  by  Romish  tyranny.  The  Reformation 
of  the  sixteenth  century  restored  the  gospel  in  its  purity,  so 
far  as  God  granted  it  the  privilege.  But  the  Reformation  did 
not  set  up  a  church,  and  yet  there  are  many  who  ask: 
"Where  is  the  evangelical  church?,"  "Where  are  its  fixed 
statutes  and  forms?,1'  "Where  are  its  visible  limits?,"  "Where 
are  its  constitution  and  its  unity?" 

True,  we  cannot  point  to  a  perfect  church,  nor  scarcely 
to  the  outline  and  groundwork  of  one.  But  should  we  there- 
fore expect  from  without  what  can  only  be  developed  from 
within?  We  desire  an  evangelical  church,  but  we  can  only  be 
aided  by  what  comes  from  an  evangelical  spirit,  from  the 
spirit  of  the  glad  tidings  of  God's  grace  in  Christ.  In  opposi- 
tion to  everything  not  evangelical,  we  stand  steadfastly  Prot- 
estant, however  proudly  the  claim  to  the  name  of  Catholic 
may  be  arrogated.  But  in  so  far  as  the  gospel  shall  be 
preached  to  every  creature,  we  also  declare  our  connection 
with  the  catholic  church,  since  it  is  the  community  of  saints. 
If  the  church  which  has  been  heretofore  exclusively  called 
Catholic,  shall  drop  the  epithet  Roman,  it  will  no  longer 
ask:  What  does  Rome  teach?,  but  will  return  to  the  basis 
of  the  gospel,1  and  on  this  ground  will  be  renewed  in  the 
Spirit,  far  better  than  was  the  case  at  Trent,  when  the  Holy 
Spirit  came  over  sometimes  from  Rome  in  mail-bags !  It  need 
not  make  the  circuitous  journey  through  the  waste  deserts  of 
our  old  Protestant  theology  in  order  to  be  called  truly  re- 
formed.   God  will  shorten  the  way,  and  then  we  shall  see 

1  In  this  sense  Martin  Boos  would  be  a  Catholic.  Comp,  his  Selbst- 
biographie, pub.  by  Gossner.  Leipz.,  1836.  —  The  Abbe  Helsen  of  Brussels 
has  given  the  same  admonition  to  the  apostolical  Catholic  church  to  turu 
from  the  Romish  Antichrist  to  Christ.    See  Evang.  Eztg.  1833,  No.  101. 


THE  WANTS  OF  CATHOLICISM  AND  PROTESTANTISM.  453 

whether  we  have  a  desire  to  enter  the  house  that  has  been 
thoroughly  purified,  freed  from  the  popish  leaven. 

But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  our  Protestant  church  will  ad- 
here to  the  ground  which  is  laid  down,  it  will,  with  the  nega- 
tive and  critical  element  which  it  needs,  also  cultivate  the 
positive  one,  not  one-sidedly,  by  mere  knowledge,  but  by  the 
culture  of  pure  characters,  by  energetic  working,  by  true 
union  in  faith  and  love.  Thus  will  God  always  aid  it  in 
escaping  from  a  deformed  and  declining  condition  to  a  love 
corresponding  to  the  spirit  dwelling  within  it,  and  the  in- 
visible church  will  always  have  a  more  worthy  visible  ex- 
pression. In  short,  the  more  evangelical  the  Catholic  church 
becomes,  and  the  more  ecclesiastical  {catholic  in  the  real 
sense)  the  evangelical  church  becomes,  the  more  vigorously 
will  the  two  strive  together,  though  by  a  reversed  order  of 
development,  for  the  goal  of  their  perfection.1  But  will  this 
happen?  Will  and  can  the  Catholic  church,  so  far  as  we  are 
acquainted  with  it,  ever  cease  to  be  Roman  Catholic?  Will 
it  ever  give  the  Bible  to  the  people  ?  On  the  other  hand,  has 
the  Protestant  church  any  reasonable  hope  of  a  speedy  and 
happy  outward  formation  of  its  character? 

These  are  questions  we  cannot  answer.  We  will  not  absolutely 
affirm  or  deny  them ;  least  of  all  can  we  expect  and  compel  any- 
thing by  outward  force.  We  cannot  even  conjecture — to  say 
nothing  of  deciding — without  being  lost  in  millenarian  dreams, 
whether  the  Catholic  church,  having  become  internally  evangel- 
ical, and  the  Protestant  church,  having  become  outwardly  organ- 
ized, will  ever  flow  together,  and  thus  really  represent  "  one  fold 
and  one  Shepherd."  Sometimes  it  seems  to  be  God's  plan  to 
permit  both  churches  to  progress  side  by  side,  and  not  so 
that  one  is  all  wheat  and  the  other  nothing  but  weeds,  but 
that  each  have  enough  to  do  to  keep  down  the  weeds,  whether 
they  spring  up  on  its  own  soil  or  are  propagated  from  its 
neighbor's  garden.  But  let  false  zeal  be  kept  as  far  distant 
as  false  submissiveness  and  indifference! 

1  Excellent  intimations  on  this  point  are  contained  in  Thiersch's 
work:  Vorlesungen  über  Katholicismus  und  Protestantismus  (Erlangen,  1846. 
2  vols.),  all  of  which,  however,  we  cannot  equally  endorse. 


454 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Never  was  constant  attention  to  the  march  of  the  enemy 
more  necessary  than  now;  never  was  it  more  important  to 
know  the  one  whom  you  can  trust.  But  neither  the  heat 
nor  the  coarse  polemics  of  the  olden  times,  and  still  less  the 
imitation  of  what  we  condemn  in  our  opponent,  can  accom- 
plish what  we  wish.  We  will  have  no  Protestant  pope  and 
no  Protestant  Jesuits,  even  though  by  this  means  we  could 
get  rid  of  the  Romish  ones.  We  wish  to  remain  evangelical 
Protestants,  firmly  established  on  the  Word  which  Christ  and 
the  Apostles  have  communicated  to  us  as  a  firm  and  living 
Word;  but  we  would  also  be  free  from  all  human  authority. 
So  far  as  we  can  we  would  be  at  peace  with  all  men,  and, 
while  we  would  seek  no  controversy,  we  would  not  avoid  one 
where  fidelity  to  our  church  demands  it;  for  we  hold  our- 
selves ready  at  any  time  to  give  an  answer  for  our  faith. 
Far  be  it  from  us  to  say  that  the  Spirit  of  God  has  totally 
forsaken  the  old  church.  Rather,  we  would  rejoice  at  every- 
thing good  which  quietly  matures  in  it,  and  which  takes  its 
course,  if  not  through  Rome,  at  least  in  spite  of  Rome.1 
Those  who  are  visibly  connected  with  that  church,  and  are 
more  immediately  called  to  understand  and  interpret  its  spirit, 
can  say  how  far  this  has  occurred  better  than  we  can.  But 
without  enjoying  the  blessings  of  others,  who  rejoice  in  their 
possession,  let  us  be  ever  more  joyously  conscious  that  God 
has  a  high  purpose  for  our  evangelical  church,  and  that  He 
is  with  it! 

We  are  not  disturbed  if  the  prospect  be  sometimes  dark. 
The  view  was  far  more  disheartening  in  the  time  of  the 
Thirty  Years'  War  and  of  Charles  I.  of  England,  and  still 
more,  in  another  respect,  during  the  French  Revolution.  But 
Protestantism  has  passed  through  all  these  storms,  and  has 
victoriously  raised  its  head  above  the  powers  of  superstition. 
Protestantism,  far  from  again  submitting  to  the  yoke  of  Rome, 
has  communicated  new  and  advantageous  impulses  to  Cathol- 
icism, and  while  a  new  papacy  has  striven  to  rise  within 

1  That  it  does  not  occur  through  Rome  has  been  clearly  proved  by 
the  history  of  the  present  pope,  Pius  IX,  to  the  very  ones  who  hailed 
him  as  the  pope  of  progress,  the  pope  of  the  nineteenth  century. 


PROTESTANTISM  NOT  REVOLUTIONARY.  455 

our  walls,  we  have  always  been  able  to  keep  free  from  it. 
Though  Protestantism  sprang  from  the  Reformation,  it  has 
kept  aloof  from  all  revolution;  it  has  given  to  God  what  is 
God's,  and  to  Caesar  what  is  Caesar's;  it  has  regarded  the 
state  and  family  as  divine  institutions,  and  has  recognized  in 
them  personality  in  all  its  dignity  and  rights,  and  has  kept 
prominently  in  mind  its  eternal  importance.  By  this  means 
it  has  stood  far  from  despotism  in  every  form,  from  Jesuitical 
and  from  demagogical  tyranny.  Whenever  it  has  strayed 
from  its  appointed  path,  God  has  brought  it  back  again  to 
a  good  mind  by  severe  trials,  and  its  rich  history  is  recorded 
in  books,  that  we  may  be  instructed,  strengthened  and  en- 
couraged whenever  necessary.  May  God  still  aid  it  in  its 
more  prosperous  development! 


MOST  RECENT  HISTORY  AND  PRESENT 
STATE  OF  THE  CHURCH  IN  EUROPE. 


BY  THE  TRANSLATOR. 


During  the  last  ten  years,  the  changes  in  the  ecclesiastical 
life  of  Europe  have  been  far  more  important  than  during  any 
equal  space  of  time  since  the  general  disruption  produced, 
directly  or  indirectly,  by  the  arms  of  Napoleon  I.  To  read 
the  causes  of  these  changes  aright,  we  must  bear  in  mind 
the  quiet  but  powerful  influence  of  America  in  the  Old  World. 
Ever  since  the  establishment  of  the  Republic  of  the  United 
States,  the  force  of  the  great  American  example  has  been 
marked  in  every  period  of  European  political  history,  for  it  has 
produced  and  supported  in  the  popular  mind  a  love  of  free 
institutions,  which,  though  not  without  its  occasional  vagaries, 
has  embraced  every  possible  opportunity  to  assert  itself. 
Since  the  success  of  the  United  States  in  suppressing  the 
Southern  Rebellion,  this  influence  has  been  still  more  decided, 
while  the  indications  are  numerous  that  it  will  not  decrease 
either  in  the  immediate  or  remote  future.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  unparalleled  success  of  the  voluntary  principle  in  the 
church  of  the  United  States  has  constantly  tended  to  create 
in  Europe  a  desire  for  the  adoption  of  the  same  salutary 
measure,  and  has  been  the  indirect  cause  of  the  practical 
efforts  tending  toward  that  end.  As  a  proof  of  this,  the 
European  advocates  of  the  Free  Church  in  a  Free  State  have 
constantly  appealed,  in  the  public  press,  and  even  in  legis- 
lative bodies,  when  they  dared  to  do  so,  to  the  American 
church,  whose  steady  progress  is  not  denied  by  the  most 


POLITICS  IN  RECENT  CHURCH  HISTORY.  457 

radical  adherents  of  the  State  Church  system  to  be  largely 
attributable  to  the  independent  and  normal  relation  in  which 
it  stands  to  the  general  government. 

In  the  adjustment  following  the  two  great  recent  wars  on 
the  Continent — the  Austrian  and  French-Italian  War  of  1859, 
and  the  Prussian  and  Austrian  War  of  18GG — the  gains  to 
ecclesiastical  and  political  liberty  have  been  incalculable,  while 
the  Spanish  Revolution  has,  in  eight  days,  changed  the  most 
despotic  and  bigoted  Catholic  country  in  Europe,  excepting 
the  Roman  States,  into  a  nation  which  has  signalized  its 
entrance  into  the  family  of  constitutional  governments  by 
granting  ecclesiastical  freedom  and  the  elective  franchise  to 
its  subjects.  It  was  only  in  keeping  with  the  powerful  part 
which  America,  though  adhering  to  her  traditional  principle 
of  non-interference  in  European  politics,  has  played  in  the 
Old  World,  that  the  United  States  should  be  the  first  of  all 
nations  to  acknowledge  the  overthrow  of  the  Bourbon  dynasty 
and  the  validity  of  the  Provisional  Government. 

In  view  of  the  scene  of  these  wars,  and  of  the  successful 
Spanish  Revolution,  as  well  as  of  the  active  participants  in 
them,  the  great  religious  issues  at  stake,  and  the  effects 
thus  far  realized,  the  political  element  predominates  in  the 
latest  period  of  the  history  of  the  European  church.  Let  us 
therefore  ask:  What  has  been  the  influence  of  these  great 
political  events  on  Roman  Catholicism?  The  Austrian  and 
the  French-Italian  WTar  was  concluded  by  the  treaty  of  Villa- 
franca on  the  11th  of  July,  1859,  and  as  the  stipulations  did 
not  satisfy  the  aspiring  spirit  of  the  Italians  for  national 
unity,  the  people  of  the  Romagna,  of  the  grand- duchy  of 
Tuscany,  and  of  the  duchy  of  Modena,  protested  against  the 
restoration  of  their  former  rulers,  and  transferred  their 
allegiance  to  Victor  Emanuel,  King  of  Sardinia.  He  refused 
to  accept  it,  and  the  stipulations  of  Villafranca  were  con- 
firmed at  Ziirich  on  the  10th  of  November  of  the  same  year. 
But  many  important  questions  were  left  undecided,  and  be- 
cause of  the  popular  uprising  conducted  by  Garibaldi,  and 
Count  Cavour's  resumption  of  the  premiership,  Parma  and 
Modena  were  annexed  to  Sardinia.    Two  months  later,  the 


458 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


people  of  Tuscany  and  the  Aemilian  provinces  of  the  Papal 
States  decided  by  an  immense  majority  in  favor  of  annexation 
to  the  kingdom  of  Sardinia.  Insurrection  broke  out  in  Sicily, 
and  increased  to  such  proportions  that  Garibaldi,  who  led 
the  insurgents,  authorized  a  popular  vote  on  annexation  to 
what  was  now  the  kingdom  of  Italy.  The  vote  was  nearly 
unanimous  in  favor  of  it,  as  was  also  that  of  Umbria  and 
the  March  of  Ancona.  Thus,  on  the  7th  of  November,  1860,  a 
period  of  less  than  two  years  after  the  outbreak  of  the  war, 
Victor  Emanuel  found  himself  the  ruler  of  22,000,000  of 
people,  and,  after  the  surrender  of  Gaeta,  of  a  territory  in- 
cluding the  whole  Italian  peninsula  save  the  Papal  States 
and  the  province  of  Venice,  which  last  has  also  become  an- 
nexed in  consequence  of  the  defeat  of  Austria  in  the  German 
War  of  1866.  Ever  since  then,  Pope  Pius  IX.  has  been  in 
constant  danger  of  dethronement  by  the  Republicans,  and  his 
territory  would  long  ago  have  become  annexed  to  the  kingdom 
of  Italy  if  he  had  not  been  upheld  by  French  soldiers,  whom,  if 
we  may  credit  the  most  recent  advices,  Napoleon  III.  has 
declared  his  purpose  to  recall  speedily  in  consequence  of  the 
protest  of  all  the  great  powers. 

One  of  the  immediate  and  natural  effects  of  this  great 
political  transformation  of  Catholic  territory  in  Italy  has  been 
to  open  it  to  Protestant  evangelization.  The  work  has  been 
difficult,  as  might  be  expected  in  a  land  so  long  cursed  with 
superstition  and  ignorance,  the  invariable  concomitants  of 
Romanism.  The  first  effect  on  the  people  after  their  political 
disenthrallment  was  revulsion  toward  the  faith  that  had  so 
long  blinded  them,  and  consequently  an  indifference  toward  all 
religion.  L.  de  Sanctis  says :  "  The  great  mass  of  the  people 
have  no  faith,  for  they  now  despise  the  traditional  belief  in 
Madonnas  and  saints;  they  are  confronted  by  only  a  small 
number  of  zealous  adherents  of  the  pope."1  The  same  writer 
estimates  the  number  of  evangelical  Christians  in  all  Italy 
at  only  50,000,  but  pays  a  high  tribute  to  their  steadfastness 
and  zeal.  Missionaries  are  laboring  in  Venice,  Verona,  Mantua, 


1  Eco  della  Verita.  New  Year's  No.  1868, 


THE  NEO-CATHOLICS  OF  ITALY. 


459 


Milan,  Como,  Turin,  Genoa,  Catania,  Brescia,  Leghorn,  Flor- 
ence, Naples  and  other  places  with  great  success,  and  Sunday- 
Schools  are  in  successful  operation  in  many  stations.1  In 
Turin,  especially,  the  Protestant  church  is  very  active,  and  in 
the  last  three  years  has  published  and  circulated  415,000 
books  and  tracts. 

Another  very  natural  effect  of  the  embarrassment  and 
danger  to  which  the  papacy  has  been  reduced,  is  the  rise  of 
a  Liberal  party  within  the  pale  of  the  Roman  church  itself. 
The  Neo-Catholics,  repudiating  many  abuses  of  papal  author- 
ity, called  loudly  for  reform.  One  of  their  chief  supports 
was  the  late  Cardinal  Andrea,  a  Jesuit  writer  commended  by 
the  Pope  himself,  and  one  of  the  principal  Catholic  Italian 
authors,  who  openly  attacked  the  temporal  power  and  in- 
fallibility of  the  pope  as  well  as  the  infallibility  of  the  church 
itself.  He,  however,  was  afterward  induced  to  recall  his  bold 
language,  and  atone  for  his  independence  in  the  pope's  pres- 
ence by  a  humiliation  that  deserves  to  stand  beside  that 
of  the  Emperor  Henry  IV.  of  Germany,  and  was  probably 
induced  by  similarly  selfish  motives.  The  organ  of  this 
reformatory  party  is  the  Esaminatore,  edited  by  Dr.  Bianci- 
adi,  a  man  of  high  official  position,  and  seven  priests,  three 
of  whom  have  been  suspended  for  their  anti-papal  sentiments, 
while  four  still  retain  their  position.  The  Esaminatore  is  regu- 
larly sent  to  and  accepted  by  600  priests.  Certain  prominent 
Italian  statesmen  are  in  full  sympathy  with  the  movement. 

The  great  ecclesiastical  results  of  the  short  but  decisive 
German  War  of  1866,  when  Austria  was  defeated  by  Prussia, 
was  the  arrest  of  the  political  power  of  Catholicism  in  Germany; 
as  events  have  shown,  it  has  been  a  great  Protestant  ad- 
vance in  Austria  itself.  Von  Beust,  a  Protestant  of  liberal 
sentiments,  was  made  Prime  Minister  of  a  government  which 
had  been  a  firm  advocate  of  the  papacy  ever  since  the  death 
of  Joseph  IL,  and  which  was  now  driven,  by  the  tone  of  the 
Protestants,  to  preserve  its  existence  by  sundering  its  ami- 

1  For  an  interesting  report  of  the  missionary  labors  of  Protestant 
churches  and  societies  in  Italy,  see  Cliristian  Year  Booh,  pp.  226,  228. 
London,  1868. 
Vol.  II.— 30 


460 


IIISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


cable  relations  with  the  Vatican,  and  granting  concessions  in 
harmony  with  the  spirit  of  the  century.  The  whole  question 
turned  on  the  celebrated  Concordat,  a  treaty  concluded  in 
the  year  1855  between  the  Austrian  empire  and  the  papacy, 
which  provided  that  all  the  education  in  Austria  be  committed 
to  the  hands  of  the  priesthood;  that  every  book  published 
be  submitted  to  its  censorship;  that  all  matters  of  marriage 
shall  be  in  the  hands  of  an  ecclesiastical  court;  that  the 
churches  enjoy  immunity  from  taxation;  and  that  the  revenue 
of  the  state  shall  be  taxed  or  diminished  for  the  benefit  of 
the  church.  In  the  Autumn  of  1867,  twenty-five  bishops, 
pillars  of  Catholicism  in  the  empire,  met  in  conclave  in 
Vienna,  and,  in  an  address  dated  September  the  28th,  1868, 
<extolled  the  Concordat  as  one  of  the  greatest  guaranties 
of  progress  the  world  has  ever  been  blessed  with,  and  im- 
plored the  emperor  to  secure  its  further  existence  beyond  the 
possibility  of  Protestant  interference. 

The  emperor  hardly  allowed  two  weeks  to  elapse  before 
he  sent  these  functionaries  a  reply,  in  which  he  showed 
them  no  mercy  whatever,  but  told  them  that  they,  instead 
of  trying  to  aid  him  in  his  work  of  pacification,  had  caused 
him  great  trouble  by  issuing  their  address  to  the  people,  and 
had  increased  his  task  of  adjusting  the  confessional  difficulties 
of  the  empire;  that  he  was  the  constitutional  ruler  of  his 
people,  and  they  must  understand  that  he  intended  to  act 
accordingly.  The  Protestant  leader  of  the  Lower  House  said 
in  open  session,  that  the  emperor's  declaration  in  favor  of 
religious  liberty  caused  joy  throughout  the  land,  and  that 
henceforth  freedom  of  conscience  and  religious  peace  shall 
rule  in  Austria.  The  Privy  Council  of  Vienna  declared  against 
the  Bishops'  Address,  without  a  dissenting  voice.  General- 
Superintendent  Schneider  boldly  said  in  the  Imperial  Council 
that  he  was  a  Protestant,  and  that  the  Chamber  could  not  expect 
him  to  praise  the  Concordat.  A  glance  at  the  Protestant  Patent, 
he  continued,  shows  plainly  enough  that  Austria  is  anxious 
to  put  an  end  to  her  dark  history.  Every  possible  effort 
lias  been  made  to  frustrate  that  Patent,  which  was  granted 
in  1881;  and  the  Catholics  have  constantly  had  their  own 


STRIFE  IN  AUSTRIA  ON  THE  CONCORDAT.  401 

way  with  the  education  of  the  people.  He  closed  by  saying 
that  the  Protestants  of  Austria  shall  not  be  placed  upon  their 
death-bed.  His  remarks  were  received  with  loud  applause. 
Muhlfeld  then  said:  "The  Concordat  must  be  abrogated — 
this  is  the  watchword  throughout  Austria,  and  in  all  classes 
of  people!  This  chain  must  fall  from  us,  for  there  is  no 
salvation  without  it!"  These  few  remarks  were  received  with 
deafening  plaudits.  It  is  gratifying  to  know  that  the  students 
stood  boldly  and  immovably  on  the  side  of  liberty  and  progress. 
Some  of  the  Professors  in  the  University  of  Vienna  ex- 
pressed sympathy  for  the  Concordat,  and  the  students  did 
not  hesitate  to  indicate  their  favor  in  the  most  outspoken 
manner.  When  Professor  Arndt,  who  had  presented  a  petition 
to  the  government  from  eighteen  Slavonic  congregations  for 
the  maintainance  of  the  Concordat,  appeared  in  his  lecture- 
room,  he  was  greeted  with  hisses.  Professor  Pachmann,  of 
similar  views,  fared  no  better. 

The  students  circulated  a  petition  to  be  presented  not  only  to 
the  parliament,  but  to  the  emperor  himself.  Its  spirit  may  be 
determined  from  the  following  words:  "We  wish  and  must 
say  to  the  members  of  parliament,  the  representatives  of  our 
people,  that  the  Concordat  has  been  crushing  us  too.  It  has 
been  said  in  the  Consistory  that  science  should  be  confessional, 
while  the  best  men  in  the  University  are  cast  off  by  clerical 
oppression;  and  those  professors  who  are  respected  by  us 
have  been  forbidden  to  teach,  simply  because  they  are  Prot- 
estants. The  attempt  has  constantly  been  made  to  still  our 
thirst  for  knowledge  by  giving  us  the  milk-and-water  thinking 
of  the  priests,  and  to  tie  us  to  the  sacred  places  of  science 
by  the  apron-strings  of  ultra-Catholicism.  Be  assured  that 
we  cannot  bear  the  reproach,  if,  to  the  shame  of  our  country, 
our  University  becomes  reduced  to  the  lowest  one  in  Germany. 
We  protest  with  spirit  and  energy;  and  we,  the  young  men 
of  the  country,  will  not  rest  until,  after  the  common  schools 
are  reformed,  all  the  high  schools  of  the  country  are  also 
reformed."  The  students  of  the  University  of  Berlin  sent 
down  a  cheering  message  to  their  Austrian  brethren,  thank- 
ing th  mi  for  the  noble  stand  they  had  taken  for  freedom  of 


462 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


conscience,  paying  them  a  high  tribute  for  their  courage,  and 
telling  them  that  if  they  suffered  for  it  in  the  end,  they  (the 
Vienna  students)  would  see  that  they  had  active  friends  in 
the  North,  who  would  aid  them  in  time  of  need. 

On  the  25th  of  May,  1868,  the  imperial  sanction  was  given 
to  the  new  laws  formally  abrogating  the  Concordat.  Hence- 
forth, clerical  jurisdiction  in  matrimonial  matters  is  at  an  end, 
and  civil  courts  are  to  decide  according  to  the  civil  code. 
If  any  priest  shall  throw  obstructions  in  the  way  of  marriage 
not  founded  in  the  law,  the  parties  can  be  legally  married 
by  the  civil  authorities.  In  all  cases  of  separation  and 
divorce,  it  is  likewise  the  civil  law  which  is  to  decide.  The 
supreme  direction  in  matters  of  education  is  to  be  exercised 
by  the  state,  and  only  the  religious  education  remains  in  the 
hands  of  the  clergy  of  the  different  confessions.  Public 
schools  are  open  to  all,  without  respect  to  religion.  In  mixed 
marriages,  parents  may  agree  about  the  religion  of  their 
children  as  they  please ;  if  there  is  no  such  agreement,  the 
sons  follow  the  religion  of  the  father,  the  daughters  that  of 
the  mother.  Illegitimate  children  follow  that  of  the  mother. 
After  the  fourteenth  year  of  age,  every  one  is  free  to  change 
his  religion;  only  certain  formalities  are  to  be  observed. 
The  members  of  one  church  cannot  be  forced  in  any  way  to 
contribute  to  the  wants  of  another,  unless  such  obligation  is 
founded  on  patronage  or  private  contract.  The  articles  of 
the  law  by  which  apostates  from  Christianity  are  disinherited, 
as  well  as  that  by  which  the  attempt  to  induce  a  Christian 
to  change  his  religion  is  punished  as  a  crime,  are  abolished. 
No  religious  community  can  refuse  a  decent  burial  to  persons 
of  another  religious  confession  in  places  where  no  burial- 
ground  of  that  confession  exists.  No  one  can  be  forced  to 
abstain  from  work  during  the  fete  days  of  a  religious  con- 
fession not  his  own,  but  every  one  is  prohibited  from  inter- 
fering with  the  public  worship  of  any  religious  body.1 

The  reception  these  new  laws  met  with  at  the  Vatican  was 
bitter  in  the  extreme;  the  pope,  in  a  special  allocution,  con- 
strued them  to  be,  not  only  a  violation  of  the  Concordat,  but 

1  Comp.  Timetf  (London)  Correspondence  of  May  27,  1868. 


THE  (ECUMENICAL  CATHOLIC  COUNCIL  OF  18G9.  463 

a  direct  attack  upon  the  rights  and  doctrines  of  the  Romi-h 
church.  The  alarm  at  the  alienation  of  Austria,  the  pro- 
spective withdrawal  of  the  French  troops  from  Rome,  and  the 
absorption  of  the  papal  territory  by  the  kingdom  of  Italy,  have 
caused  the  pope  to  call  an  (Ecumenical  Council,  the  first 
after  an  interval  of  three  centuries,  to  take  place  in  the  city 
of  Rome  on  the  8th  of  December,  1869,  the  professed  object 
of  which  is,  that  "  all  ills  may  be  removed  from  civil  society ; 
that  our  august  religion  and  her  salutary  doctrine  may  every- 
where be  quickened  by  fresh  life,  and  may  still  further  ex- 
tend their  influence;  and  thus  piety,  honesty,  probity,  justice, 
charity  and  all  the  Christian  virtues  may  gather  strength  and 
flourish  to  the  great  benefit  of  human  society."  Even  the 
bishops  of  the  Greek,  Armenian  and  Nestorian  churches  are 
invited  to  attend,  and  take  part  in  the  discussions,  but  not 
to  vote. 

Of  the  important  omission  of  sovereigns  from  the  invita- 
tion, M.  Louis  Veuillot,  editor  of  the  Univers,  the  lead- 
ing Roman  Catholic  newspaper  in  Europe,  says:  "The  bull 
convoking  the  (Ecumenical  Council  does  not  invite  sover- 
eigns to  sit  in  that  legislative  council.  The  omission  has 
been  remarked,  and  it  is  indeed  remarkable.  It  implies  that 
there  are  no  longer  Catholic  crowns — that  is  to  say,  that  the 
order  in  which  society  has  lived  for  the  last  thousand  years 
no  longer  exists.  What  has  been  called  the  'Middle  Ages'  has 
come  to  an  end.  June  29th,  1868 — the  date  of  the  promul- 
gation of  the  bull  'iEterni  Patris' — is  the  date  of  its  death, 
of  its  last  sigh.  Another  era  begins.  The  Church  and  State 
are  separated  in  fact,  and  both  recognize  it.  Thus  we  can 
understand  why  the  pope  has  departed  from  the  precedent 
of  the  Council  of  Trent,  and  has  not  summoned  the  represent- 
atives of  the  temporal  authority.  What  place  could  they 
hold,  and  what  part  could  they  play,  in  a  programme  of  the 
government  of  mind  and  morals?  What  could  they  venture 
to  do  for  the  object  of  the  council,  for  the  greater  glory  of 
God,  for  the  integrity  of  faith,  for  the  Christian  education  of 
youth — in  a  word,  for  the  eternal  salvation  of  men?" 

The  Emperor  Francis  Josoph  IL,  finding,  by  the  issue  of 


464 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


the  War  of  1866,  the  German  Confederation  broken  up,  and 
his  empire  dispossessed  of  political  preponderance  in  Germany, 
took  special  pains  to  conciliate  his  disaffected  Hungarian  sub- 
jects, among  whom  the  Protestants  constitute  a  powerful 
element,  numbering  2,650,000  of  the  population.  It  was 
Hungary  which,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  had  limited  the  encroach- 
ments of  Mohammedanism  on  the  East,  and,  since  the  Refor- 
mation, has  discharged  the  double  function  of  arresting  the  in- 
roads of  the  Greek  church  on  the  one  side  and  of  Catholicism 
on  the  other,  and  though  signs  of  deviation  from  orthodoxy 
have  occasionally  appeared,  they  have  encountered  energetic 
and  successful  resistance.  These  Hungarian  Protestants  have 
promptly  seized  the  opportunity  afforded  by  the  adoption  of 
a  liberal  policy  on  the  part  of  the  government,  and  have 
united  with  great  ardor  in  evangelizing  labors.  Such  asso- 
ciations as  Conferences  of  Preachers,  Circles  of  School  Teachers, 
Young  Men's  Unions,  and  others  of  long  standing  have  been 
inspired  with  new  life,  and  are  now  re-enforced  by  powerful 
auxiliaries.  The  single  mission  of  Pesth,  by  the  aid  of  its 
strong  organization  for  Sunday-Schools,  missionary  labors, 
tract  distribution,  and  humanitarian  effort,  is  doing  a  great 
work.  In  Transylvania  and  Hungary  there  are  nineteen  de- 
positories for  the  sale  of  religious  literature.1 

The  Calvinists  are  twice  as  numerous  as  the  Lutherans,  and 
vie  with  the  latter  in  the  good  work  of  evangelization.  The 
sect  of  Nazarites,  originally  only  known  in  the  Banant,  and 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Szegedin,  has  spread  in  the  last  ten 
years  over  the  greater  part  of  Hungary.  Between  the  Danube 
and  the  Theiss  they  now  number  80,000.  The  most  of  their 
adherents  are  in  the  Magyar  districts.  They  are  Spiritualists, 
rejecting  the  sacraments,  approving  only  the  civil  marriage, 
and  refusing  military  service.  In  order  to  escape  the  latter, 
the  parents  of  the  young  men  or  the  parishes  buy  substi- 
tutes for  them. 

The  distinguishing  feature  of  the  Russo- Greek  church  is  its 
bitterness  toward  Romanism.  The  rupture  of  the  Russian  govern- 
ment with  the  Vatican  has  been  followed  by  most  strenuous 

1  See  CJiristian  Work  for  June,  1867. 


PROTESTANTISM  IN  RUSSIA. 


405 


efforts  against  Catholic  proselytism.  Especially  has  this  been 
the  case  in  the  Baltic  Provinces,  while  in  Poland  no  pains 
are  spared  to  reduce  the  influence  of  the  Catholic  priesthood. 
In  Catholic  churches  in  places  where  the  Polish  language, 
though  not  spoken  by  the  people,  had  been  pressed  upon 
them,  the  Russian  language  has  been  adopted.  An  imperial 
ukase,  dated  September  IGth,  1868,  subordinates  the  direction 
of  the  United  Greek  church,  which  acknowledges  the  su- 
premacy of  the  papacy,  to  the  Ministry  of  Public  Worship. 
Even  in  Paris  a  journal  called  the  Union  Chretienne,  edited 
by  Dr.  Guettee,  formerly  an  extreme  Ultramontanist,  has  been 
started  for  promoting  the  interests  of  the  Greek  church. 
The  policy  of  the  government  has  not  been  without  its  effect. 
In  the  year  1866  alone  there  were  55,466  conversions  from 
Catholicism  to  the  Russo-Greek  church. 

Protestantism,  too,  has  very  recently  been  gaining  more 
strength  in  Russia  than  at  any  previous  period.  The  Ger- 
mans who  located  there  in  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  laid 
the  foundation  for  the  present  Protestant  church  in  that 
empire.  In  1602  there  were  in  Moscow  as  many  as  4000 
Germans.  These  had  their  church  and  their  schools,  and 
were  strengthened  by  the  accession  of  Protestant  Englishmen 
and  Hollanders,  who  emigrated  first  to  Archangel  and  after- 
ward to  Moscow.  There  are  at  present  in  Moscow  two 
Lutheran  congregations,  numbering  about  8000  members,  and 
a  Reformed  one  of  about  1200.  In  St.  Petersburg  there  are 
40,000  Germans,  while  there  are  30,000  of  various  nation- 
alities, who  together  constitute  the  evangelical  church.  There 
are  altogether  16  churches  (10  Lutheran,  4  Reformed,  1 
Moravian,  and  1  Congregationalist),  and,  on  Sabbath,  Protest- 
ant service  is  held  in  eight  different  languages.  In  the 
interior  of  Russia  it  is  very  difficult  for  the  Protestant  clergy 
to  exercise  their  office,  as  they  have  but  few  members  to  a 
large  extent  of  territory.  It  is  a  remarkable  fact,  that  the 
national  church  rivals  the  Protestants  in  the  distribution  of 
the  Scriptures.  In  the  army  and  navy  the  officers  are  re- 
quired to  give  regular  instruction  to  the  soldiers,  and  the 
first  reading-book  is  the  New  Testament,  or  the  Four  Gospels. 


466 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


When  libraries  are  formed  for  the  benefit  of  the  people,  the 
Scriptures  have  a  prominent  position.  The  Synod  of  the 
Russo- Greek  Church  is  vigorously  engaged  in  printing  the 
Gospels,  the  New  Testament,  or  Psalms,  in  Slavonic  and 
modern  Russ,  which  are  issued  at  such  cheap  rates  as  to 
place  them  within  the  reach  of  the  poor. 

What  Catholicism  has  lost  in  political  influence  in  Germany 
by  the  War  of  1866,  it  has  been  earnestly  striving  to  more 
than  regain  by  propagandizing  efforts  in  Prussia,  and,  indeed, 
in  all  the  North  German  Confederation.  Bishop  Martin  of 
Paderborn,  President  of  the  St.  Boniface  Association,  the  rival 
organization  of  the  Gustavus  Adolphus  Association,  of  the 
Protestant  Germans,  in  his  Chief  Duty  of  Catholic  Germany, 
calls  upon  all  classes  of  his  co-religionists  to  concentrate 
their  missionary  zeal  upon  North  Germany,  and  terms  the 
German  episcopacy  the  "  native  spiritual  protector  of  Germany." 
However,  statistical  accounts  furnish  him  cold  comfort,  for, 
between  1818  and  1864  the  Protestant  population  of  Prussia 
has  increased  83, 037  per  cent,  while  the  Catholics  have  only 
increased  76,090  per  cent;  therefore,  a  Catholic  decrease  of 
143,000.  In  January,  1868,  the  German  Catholics,  headed 
by  some  of  their  leading  functionaries,  and  under  the  presi- 
dency of  Waldbott-Bassenheim,  held  a  convention  at  Cologne, 
the  German  Rome,  in  which  measures  of  sympathy  with  the 
pope  in  his  extremity,  and  strongly  approving  of  his  temporal 
power,  were  adopted,  and  all  Catholics  were  urged  to  stand 
fast  in  the  present  hour  of  trial.  Professor  Walther,  of  Bonn 
University,  encouraged  his  auditors  by  a  discussion  of  the 
grounds  of  hope  which  the  German  Catholics  had,  among 
which  he  enumerated  the  following:  "That  the  church  is  now 
rising  from  its  sufferings  and  gaining  strength;  that  in  every 
Catholic  breast  there  is  a  vital  thirst  for  righteousness ;  that 
the  justice  of  the  claims  of  the  Catholics  have  met  with  the 
favor  of  the  King  of  Prussia;  and  that  we  have  the  certainty 
that  God's  omnipotent  hand  is  supporting  us."  Petitions 
numerously  signed  have  been  presented  to  King  William  I. 
for  the  support  of  the  French  occupation  of  Rome  and 
the  temporal  power  of  the  pope.    The  entire  province  of 


THE  NEW  PRUSSIAN  TERRITORY. 


4G7 


the  Rhine  has  been  thrown  into  the  movement  of  looking 
to  Prussia  for  the  relief  of  the  papacy,  while  contribution 
have  been  gathered  for  the  pope,  and  young  men  have 
volunteered  for  his  army.  The  king  has  been  thought  by 
many  far-seeing  Protestants  too  vacillating  in  his  ex- 
pressions toward  his  Catholic  subjects,  who  are  largely  in- 
creased by  the  recent  annexations,  and  whom  he  has  un- 
questionably seen  fit  to  conciliate  by  much  stronger  support 
than  is  sufficient  to  answer  the  purposes  of  policy.  The  organ 
of  the  German  branch  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance  says: 
"  Russia  is  commencing  to  encroach  upon  the  Lutheran  church 
in  the  Baltic  provinces;  the  recent  ecclesiastical  events  in 
England  are  well  known;  in  France,  a  little  Protestant  group 
is  fighting  a  double  foe;  Austria,  Italy  and  Spain  cannot  be 
held  up  as  model  countries  of  Protestant  prosperity;  but  just 
in  this  crisis,  without  a  protest  of  the  evangelical  church  in 
the  interest  of  confessional  peace,  we  are  admitting  a  papal 
nuncio  to  our  door."1 

Turning  to  the  consideration  of  Protestantism  in  Germany, 
the  most  prominent  question,  and  which  has  already  produced 
a  large  amount  of  literature,  and  been  the  principal  topic  in 
many  of  the  ecclesiastical  conventions  for  more  than  two 
years,  is  the  adjustment  of  the  confessional  relations  of  the 
new  Prussian  territory,  of  which  the  late  kingdom  of  Han- 
over is  the  most  important  part.  The  prevailing  sentiment 
of  the  new  Prussians  is  strongly  against  amalgamation  with 
the  state  church,  which  consists  of  the  Evangelical  Union  of 
the  Lutheran  and  Reformed  Confessions  introduced  by  King 
Frederick  William  III.  in  1817.  The  present  king  ardently 
desires  the  adoption  of  the  Union  by  the  new  territory,  and 
has  recently  expressed  to  a  delegation  of  Hanoverian  divines 
the  hope  that  they  would  take  the  lead,  but  that  he  would 
refrain  from  all  compulsion.  In  the  newly  annexed  countries 
four  consistories,' independent  of  the  Evangelical  Ecclesiastical 
Council  (therefore,  of  the  Union),  exist,  standing  directly  under 
the  supervision  of  the  Ministry  of  Public  Worship.  Those  in 
Hanover  and  Hesse  remain  as  before,  while  those  of  Nassau 

1  Neue  Evangelische  Kirchenzeitung,  No.  18,  1868. 


468 


IIISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


and  the  duchies  of  the  Elbe  have  been  reestablished.  In 
Hanover  an  attempt  has  been  made  to  separate  the  schools 
from  the  church,  and  to  place  them  under  state  supervision. 
The  seminaries  have  already  been  withdrawn  from  the  ecclesi- 
astical authorities.  Many  petitions  have  been  presented  by 
the  clergy,  teachers,  congregations  and  others  against  any 
change  of  relation  of  the  common  schools  to  the  church. 

In  1863  preparations  were  made  in  Frankfort-on-the-Main 
for  the  organization  of  an  important  association  of  Protestant 
ministers  and  laymen,  having  the  double  object  of  promoting 
a  public  sentiment  in  favor  of  the  separation  of  church  and 
state  and  the  propagation  of  a  so-called  liberal,  though  really 
rationalistic,  theology,  but  at  whose  annual  public  meetings 
there  should  be  only  general  expressions  of  opinion,  while  the 
formal  resolutions  should  be  drawn  up  by  private  committees. 
The  first  regular  session  of  the  Protestant  Association  was 
held  in  Eisenach  in  1865,  the  Berlin  Union,  an  association 
of  similar  theological  tendency,  wrhose  organ  was  the  Prot- 
estant Church  Gazette,  having  united  with  it  immediately  be- 
fore. Dr.  Schenkel,  of  Heidelberg  University,  stands  at  the 
head  of  the  Association,  and,  in  his  General  Church  Gazette 
and  frequent  books,  labors  with  great  energy,  and  thus 
far  with  no  little  success,  for  its  growth.  He  lays  down 
the  following  as  its  principles:  "That  there  must  be  a 
church  directly  rising  out  of  the  state  church,  which  shall 
be  perfectly  independent;  that  the  clergy  must  be  purified 
from  hierarchical  conceit,  keeping  pace  with  the  culture  of 
the  times  and  following  the  movement  of  science;  that  there 
must  be  an  end  to  all  clerical  fanaticism,  especially  such  as 
has  recently  lifted  its  head  against  every  free  expression 
of  opinion  in  theological  and  pastoral  circles;  that  there 
must  be  true  tolerance  manifested  toward  the  most  different 
theological  and  doctrinal  tendencies  in  the  church;  and  that 
all  religious  and  moral  force  must  have  ample  room  for 
operation." 1  The  third  session  of  the  Association  occurred  in 
Bremen  on  the  3rd  of  June,  1868,  when  various  parts  of 
Germany  were  represented,  mostly  by  young  men,  who  took 

1  Der  deutsche  Protestantenverein,  pp.  35,  36.   Wiesbaden,  1868. 


THE  GERMAN  PROTESTANT  ASSOCIATION.  4G9 

active  part.  Professor  Bluntschli  discussed  the  question  of 
the  relation  of  the  church  to  the  state,  and  contended  for 
their  divorce.  The  theological  tone  of  the  session  may  be 
determined  from  the  following  words  of  Dr.  Schenkel:  "The 
Bible  has  become  the  paper-pope  of  Protestants,  just  as  the 
man  in  Rome  is  the  pope  of  the  Catholics.  The  Bible,  like 
every  other  book,  should  be  subjected  to  literary  criticism. 
As  for  taking  the  Bible  as  authority,  we  should  only  take 
its  spirit,  and  therefore  use  it  as  an  inward  authority.  There 
is  only  one  general  authority,  and  that  is  God."  The  Prot- 
estant Association  has  thus  far  been  successful  in  absorbing 
a'  large  amount  of  latent  and  detached  skeptical  sentiment, 
which  has  been  attracted  to  it  by  its  theological  and  political 
tone.  If  it  shall  succeed,  directly,  in  hastening  the  separation 
of  the  unnatural  union  of  state  and  church,  and,  indirectly, 
in  arousing  the  evangelical  portion  of  the  church  to  more 
active  measures  against  the  aggressions  of  skepticism,  it  will 
not  have  existed  in  vain.  The  lamented  Rothe  was  unfortu- 
nately induced  to  unite  with  the  Association,  and  thus,  in  his 
closing  months,  to  exert  an  influence  directly  antagonistic  to 
the  general  tenor  of  a  life  spent  in  evangelical  labors.  Baum- 
garten  is  now  the  most  distinguished  orthodox  theologian 
who  has  united  with  this  body,  but  his  frequent  protests  have 
proved  clearly  enough  that  he  feels  ill  at  ease  among  his 
new  associates. 

This  society  is  only  one  part  of  the  deplorable  picture  now 
presented  by  the  German  Protestant  church.  Many  of  those 
who  ought  to  be  ministering  to  the  wants  of  the  people  are 
dividing  their  time  and  talents  between  confessional  strife, 
the  promulgation  of  the  gospel  of  culture,  and  loud  mis- 
representations of,  and  warnings  against,  the  labors  of  the 
missionary  representatives  of  religious  bodies  in  England  and 
America.  It  is  not  surprising  that  the  masses  betray  sad 
evidence  of  this  neglect,  and  that  the  beer-garden  and  Sunday- 
theater  are  more  assiduously  visited  than  the  places  of  wor- 
ship. The  Berlin  agent  of  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible 
Society  says:  "The  district  committed  to  my  management 
comprises,  in  round  numbers,  upward  of  17,000,000  of  in- 


470 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


habitants.  If  we  take  away  from  these  17,000,000  one  third 
as  unripe  for  the  possession  and  use  of  the  Bible,  and  sup- 
pose that  one  half  of  the  remainder  actually  possess  a  copy 
—  and  that  is,  probably,  a  much  too  favorable  supposition — 
there  remain  upward  of  5,500,000  persons  requiring  to  be 
supplied  with  Scriptures.  And  what  has  been  done  to  meet 
this  lack?  The  native  Bible  societies — that  is,  the  Prussian, 
the  Saxon,  the  Mecklenburg,  and  the  Anhalt — will  have  cir- 
culated, at  the  outside,  some  15,000  or  20,000  copies,  say 
20,000;  and  our  circulation  has  been  upward  of  160,000. 
In  a  word,  the  entire  number  of  Bibles,  Testaments,  and  parts 
cannot  have  exceeded  250,000,  which,  divided  among  5,500,000, 
gives  one  copy  for  every  twenty-second  person,  and  leaves 
5,250,000  in  one  year  without  the  bread  of  life,  so  far  as 
having  the  bread  of  life  depended  on  owning  a  copy  of  the 
Scriptures.  I  do  not  think  my  calculation  would  be  very  wide 
of  the  mark  if  I  were  to  affirm  that  there  are  8,000,000 
persons  in  my  district  who  ought  to  have  a  Bible  or  Testa- 
ment and  who  actually  do  not  possess  one.1'1  In  the  manu- 
facturing districts  of  which  Dresden  and  Leipzig  are  centers, 
not  only  is  the  religious  indifference  appalling,  but  immorality 
in  its  grossest  forms  prevails.  The  services  on  the  Sabbath 
are  almost  totally  neglected,  while  the  rest  of  the  day  is 
occupied  by  the  older  people  in  laboring  in  the  fields,  shops 
or  factories,  and  by  the  young  people  in  music  and  dancing 
in  the  beer-gardens  and  restaurants.  Theft  is  a  very  common 
offence,  and  is  committed  by  old  and  young,  male  and  female. 
The  prisons  contain  large  numbers  of  boys,  and  prisoners 
from  eighteen  to  twenty-four  years  of  age  are  found  to  have 
been  in  confinement  many  times  before.  These  persons,  on 
examination,  appear  to  have  but  little  or  no  knowledge  of 
Scriptural  truth,  no  'respect  for  their  parents,  and  a  strong 
notion  that  when  they  were  baptized  and  confirmed  their 
salvation  was  indubitably  secured.  The  alarming  extent  of 
this  evil  may  be  accounted  for,  in  a  great  measure,  by  the 
total  disregard  of  parental  care  and  training.  The  children 
are  neglected,  allowed  to  grow  up  like  weeds,  and  in  due 

1  See  63rd  Report  of  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society,  1867,  pp.  69, 70. 


THE  DANISH  CHURCH. 


471 


time  are  ready  for  any  crime.  Those  who  are  over  six  years 
of  age  are  compelled  to  go  into  the  factories  to  work,  where 
they  are  crowded  into  ill-ventilated  rooms,  seldom  allowed  to 
rest  their  overtaxed  muscles,  and  compelled  to  listen  from 
morning  until  night  to  the  profanity  of  the  operatives.  The 
extent  to  which  prostitution  prevails  is  appalling.  In  Mecklen- 
burg, which  has  a  population  of  about  700,000,  one  child  out 
of  every  three  born  in  the  last  fifteen  years  is  illegitimate, 
and  in  seventy-nine  districts  there  are  only  illegitimate 
children.1 

In  Denmark  the  importance  of  religious  vitality  is  over- 
looked amid  the  bitter  strife  within  the  church  on  the  relation 
of  the  Free  Congregations  to  the  State  Church.  These  societies 
have  taken  shape  within  it,  and  profess  the  same  faith  with 
it.  Strangely  enough,  they  oppose  with  all  their  power  the 
introduction  of  an  ecclesiastical  constitution  and  the  separation 
of  the  state  and  church.  Rasmus  Nielsen,  Professor  of  Phi- 
losophy, contends  that  faith  and  science  are  irreconcilable 
ideas,  and  that  therefore  all  theological  science  bears  in  it- 
self a  contradiction.  Though  he  made  known  his  views  some 
years  ago,  the  controversy  on  them  broke  out  afresh  in  1867. 
Bishop  Martensen,  in  his  Faith  and  Science,  attacks  Nielsen's 
assumptions  from  the  theological  standpoint,  while  Brandes, 
in  his  Dualism  in  our  Latest  Philosophy,  opposes  from  the 
philosophical  side.  The  Grundtvig  party  is  favorable  to 
Nielsen.  Lay  preaching,  which  has  of  late  increased  in  cer- 
tain sections,  has  met  with  vigorous  opposition,  and  from  none 
more  so  than  from  Bishop  Martensen.  A  Danish  fanatic  by 
the  name  of  Sommer  has  collected  a  little  spiritualistic  sect 
in  Jutland,  somewhat  resembling  the  Quakers,  the  Plymouth 
Brethren,  and  Mennonites.  The  Catholics  have  been  profiting  by 
the  religious  apathy  of  the  Protestants,  and  have  recently  made 
many  accessions.  The  authorities  of  the  State  Church  have 
been  led  by  their  encroachments  to  forbid  Lutheran  children 
entering  Catholic  schools.  Mormonism  seems  for  once  to  be 
losing  strength,  while  the  Irvingites  are  gaining  ground. 
The  evangelical  portion  of  the  church  is  taking  great  interest 

1  See  Ruling's  Beden  an  Geistliche.  Leipzig,  1866.  pp.  217—246. 


472 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


in  benevolent  enterprises,  there  being  a  special  organization 
for  almost  every  class  needing  aid.1  The  conflict  on  the 
person  of  Christ  has  even  reached  Iceland.  A  candidate  of 
theology,  Erikson,  has  been  promulgating  the  sentiments  of 
the  Protestant  Association  of  Germany.  The  preachers,  how- 
ever,  of  the  island,  have  appeared  strongly  against  him  in 
the  journals  Thiodolfur  and  Nordanfari. 

In  Holland  vulgar  Rationalism  prevails  to  an  alarming  ex- 
tent, though  opposed  with  great  energy  by  Van  Oosterzee, 
the  leading  Dutch  pulpit  orator  and  commentator.  There  are 
signs,  however,  that  it  is  decreasing.  The  attendance  of 
students  at  the  University  of  Leyden,  its  principal  stronghold, 
is  constantly  diminishing,  while  that  of  Utrecht,  where  Van 
Oosterzee  and  Doedes  teach,  is  thronged  with  eager  inquirers 
for  the  truth.  The  churches  of  Leyden,  presided  over  by 
skeptical  preachers,  are  almost  vacant,  while  the  evangelical 
clergy  are  compelled  to  supplement  theirs  by  hiring  halls. 
In  Belgium,  which  is  largely  Catholic,  important  Protestant 
missions  are  in  successful  operation,  and  very  recently  the 
government  has  granted  them  the  fullest  liberty.  The  in- 
fluence of  the  Catholic  clergy  on  education  has  been  lessened, 
and  in  the  elementary  schools  it  has  been  cut  off  nearly  al- 
together. 

French  Protestantism  is  involved  in  a  violent  internal  strife 
of  parties.  On  the  one  hand  is  the  evangelical  school,  rep- 
resented by  De  Pressens6,  Guizot,  Bersier,  and  others,  and, 
on  the  other,  by  the  rationalistic  theologians  —  a  school  which 
owes  its  origin  chiefly  to  the  late  A.  Coquerel,  Sr.,  and  stands 
upon  Unitarian  grounds.  The  former  triumphed  in  the  annual 
conferences  in  the  Spring  of  1868,  and  are  making  rapid 
progress  in  some  of  the  southern  districts;  they  have  been 
successful  in  the  Consistories  of  Tonneies,  Rouen,  and  Bordeaux, 
while  their  enemies  have  triumphed  in  Havre,  Lyons,  Nismes, 
and  St.  Hippolyte.  Rationalism  prevails  in  the  Protestant 
church  in  Paris,  and  is  greatly  promoted  by  the  materialistic  in- 
fluence of  French  philosophy.    Since  the  death  of  Comte,  the 

1  For  an  interesting  account  of  these  societies,  see  Neue  Evangelische 
Kirchemeitwng,  Nr.  7.  1868. 


SWISS  PROTESTANTISM. 


473 


leading  Positivists,  about  fifty  in  number,  have  organized 
themselves  into  an  association,  under  the  presidency  of  Lafitte, 
for  the  dissemination  of  their  system.  Positivism,  however, 
is  confined  chiefly  to  the  cultivated  classes,  while  Proudhonism, 
which  separates  the  thought  of  justice  from  God,  is  making 
progress  among  the  middle  and  lower  classes.  The  evangelical 
labors  connected  with  the  Universal  Exposition  of  18G7  ex- 
erted a  powerful  influence  against  all  these  skeptical  tend- 
encies, together  with  Roman  Catholicism;  7,000,000  copies 
of  portions  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  and  tracts,  and  3,000,000 
copies  of  the  Bible  and  New  Testament  were  sold,  while 
preaching  was  heard  at  the  Evangelical  Hall  in  many  languages 
by  multitudes  during  the  Summer. 

Swiss  Protestantism  is  also  divided  against  itself.  The 
type  of  skepticism  is  quite  gross,  and  its  adherents  are  using 
every  effort  by  public  lectures  in  Geneva,  Basle,  and  else- 
where to  propagate  their  opinions.  A  work  by  Pastor  Vögelin, 
The  History  of  Jesus  and  the  Origin  of  the  Christian  Church, 
may  be  regarded  as  a  specimen  of  the  class.  It  contends 
that  whatever  is  of  supernatural  character  in  the  Bible  is 
therefore  incredible;  that  the  history  of  Jesus  is  full  of  exag- 
gerations of  all  kinds,  and  that  science  is  bound  to  oppose 
them  with  its  historical  instruction ;  that  Jesus  was  not  differ- 
ent from  other  men,  either  in  nature  or  origin ;  that  he  per- 
formed no  miracles,  and  was  not  at  all  free  from  sin ;  that  he 
never  rose  from  the  dead,  and  is  not  a  mediator  between 
God  and  man;  that  his  influence  arose  from  the  impressions 
which  he  derived  as  a  child  from  nature  and  from  the  history 
of  his  people;  that  God  forgave  his  sins,  and  that  he  gave 
up  his  life  willingly  to  carry  out  the  thought  of  founding  a 
kingdom  of  God;  that  the  origin  of  the  resurrection  arose 
from  the  veneration  which  his  followers  had  for  him;  that 
all  religion  consists  in  loving  God,  and  your  neighbor  as 
yourself;  that  the  body  never  rises  again,  but  goes  into 
nonentity,  so  that  the  spirit  may  soar  in  its  pure  and  un- 
interrupted progress ;  that  the  final  judgment  only  takes  place 
in  the  conscience  of  individual  men;  and  that  there  is  no  hell, 
nor  any  special  reward  for  good  works. 


474 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


Professor  Riggenbach,  of  Basle,  stands  at  the  head  of  the 
orthodox  party,  which  has  lost  an  invaluable  support  in  the 
pure,  earnest  and  learned  Auberlen. 

In  all  these  countries,  strong  efforts  are  being  made  by 
denominations  outside  of  the  established  churches  for  spreading 
a  more  evangelical  faith  among  the  masses.  The  Free  Church 
of  Scotland  is  taking  the  lead  in  Hungary,  while  the  Baptists 
and  Methodists  are  most  active  in  Germany  and  Scandinavia. 
In  Sweden  the  Baptists  number  7418  members  and  191 
churches,  and  two  years  ago  founded  a  theological  school. 
In  Germany  and  Switzerland,  together  with  a  mission  in  Paris, 
the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  of  the  United  States  has 
established  a  mission,  which  numbers  72  preachers  and  a 
membership  of  6338.  But  all  these  movements  are  looked 
upon  with  suspicion  and  aversion  by  the  State  churches,  and 
wise  measures  are  embarrassed  and  pure  doctrines  misrep- 
resented with  a  zeal  and  tact  worthy  of  a  better  cause.1 
By  a  late  decree,  the  King  of  Würtemberg  has  declared 
perfect  religious  liberty  to  all  confessions,  so  that  now  all 
religious  bodies  in  that  country  stand  equal  with  the  State 
Church  before  the  law. 

The  state  of  the  Established  Church  in  England  is  not  more 
hopeful  than  its  sisters  on  the  Continent.  The  publication  of 
the  Essays  and  Reviews  in  1856,  followed  by  the  more  out- 
spoken skepticism  of  Colenso,  provoked  a  controversy  which 
has  been  felt  in  the  furthest  colonies  of  the  kingdom.  Ritual- 
ism sprang  up  as  an  agency  antagonistic  to  this  Anglicized 
German  Rationalism,  and  these  two  tendencies,  between  which 
it  is  hard  to  decide  which  is  the  better,  are  now  powerful  in 
the  life  and  literature  of  the  Anglican  church.  The  Pan- 
Anglican  Synod,  consisting  of  all  the  prelates  of  the  Anglican 
communion  throughout  the  world,  with  the  exception  of  Bishop 
Colenso,  held  a  meeting  in  1867  at  Lambeth,  by  invitation 

1  "No  one  has  any  real  pleasure  in  them,  —  neither  our  highest  ecclesi- 
astical authorities,  nor  the  preachers  of  the  gospel  in  our  churches,  nor 
the  Christian  associations  of  the  country,  have  any  real  pleasure  in 
them"  [the  Methodists].  Strebel,  Die  Methodisten  in  ihrer  Heimath  und  in 
der  Fremde,  p.  3.  Stuttgart,  1868. 


THE  ANGLICAN  CHURCH. 


475 


of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  Seventy-five  bishops  re- 
sponded to  the  call,  when  a  pastoral  address  was  issued  in 
favor  of  adherence  to  the  canonical  Scriptures,  and  against 
the  growing  rationalistic  tendencies.  Meanwhile,  the  enlarge- 
ment of  the  popular  franchise  has  led  the  Reform  leaders  to 
address  themselves  to  the  work  of  separating  Church  and 
State,  practically  commenced  in  the  House  of  Commons  by 
the  passage,  by  a  large  majority,  of  Gladstone's  resolutions 
for  the  disestablishment  of  the  Irish  Church,  though,  as  might 
be  expected,  the  resolution  was  defeated  in  the  House  of 
Lords,  a  body  which  possesses  merely  nominal  power,  has 
no  popular  sympathy  or  affinities,  and  never  adopts  a  liberal 
measure  except  by  enforcement.1  The  bill  of  Mr.  Coleridge 
for  opening  the  Universities  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge  to  all 
confessions  is  still  pending,  and  has  met  with  vigorous  oppo- 
sition from  the  High  Church.  Dr.  Pusey  sent  an  address  to  the 
Wesleyan  Conference  of  1868,  in  which  he  invited  Wesleyan 
cooperation  against  Mr.  Coleridge's  University  Bill,  and  pro- 
posed that,  out  of  the  funds  of  the  colleges,  provision  should 
be  made  for  those  Dissenting  bodies  washing  to  be  rep- 
resented in  the  university,  in  a  word,  that  new  colleges 
should  be  founded  out  of  the  revenues  of  the  old  ones  for 
the  different  bodies  who  hold  the  faith  in  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  The  Conference  took  no  action  on  the  letter,  but 
simply  acknowledged  its  reception. 

The  Presbyterians  in  England  and  Scotland,  following  the 
example  of  their  American  brethren,  are  progressing  rapidly 
with  their  plans  of  union.  The  three  principal  bodies  are 
the  Established  Church,  which  recognizes  the  patronage  and 
oversight  of  the  state,  and  whose  clergymen  are  paid  by  the 

i  Statistics  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  Ireland:  28  bishops;  3027  clergy- 
men; 2400  chapels  — 2000  of  which  have  been  built  since  1S00;  300 
cloisters,  hospitals,  colleges,  etc.;  and  2990  school-houses.  This  "poor"'' 
church  pays  annually  a  Peter's  pence  of  800,000  pounds  sterling,  besides 
important  contributions  for  the  Propaganda.  In  1865  the  clerical 
statistics  in  Ireland  were:  G279  clergyman,  of  whom  3014  were  Roman 
Catholics,  2265  Anglicans,  677  Presbyterians,  277  Methodists,  35  In- 
dependents, 21  Baptists,  1  Jewish,  and  25  miscellaneous. 
Vol.  II.— 31 


476 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


state;  the  Free  Church,  which  does  not  refuse  the  support  of 
the  clergy  by  the  state,  but  vindicates  independent  congre- 
gafional  rights,  and  does  not  reject  the  oversight  of  the  State; 
and  the  United  Presbyterians,  who  will  have  nothing  at  all 
to  do  with  the  state,  and  even  reject  the  state  salaries.  The 
more  strict  party  in  the  Free  Church  are  decidedly  opposed 
to  Presbyterian  union.  A  numerous  and  influential  assembly 
of  Presbyterian  laymen  met  in  Edinburgh,  and  declared 
in  favor  of  the  Union  of  the  great  Presbyterian  bodies.  All 
the  Dissenting  bodies  have  taken  active  part  in  favor  of  the 
Reform  measures,  and  now  Wesleyanism  has  combined  with 
them,  though  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  it  did  not  add  its 
influence  sooner.  The  Catholics,  taking  advantage,  as  they 
well  know  how  to  do,  of  the  internal  ecclesiastical  and  political 
dissension  in  Great  Britain,  have  been  using  every  effort  to  in- 
crease their  number.  If  the  statements  of  Archbishop  Manning 
may  be  relied  on,  there  are,  in  England  alone,  1600  Catholic 
bishops  and  priests,  206  convents,  40  to  50  monasteries,  and 
1300  cathedrals,  churches  and  chapels. 

A  movement  has  been  made  in  the  Established  Church  to- 
ward union  with  the  Greek  Church.  The  proposed  basis  is 
the  common  doctrines  and  forms  of  worship  employed  by  the 
Roman  and  Greek  churches,  and  which  the  English  church 
his  only  to  adopt  in  form.  This  would  involve  the  accept- 
ance by  the  latter  of  transubstantiation,  worship  of  saints, 
institution  of  cloisters,  the  seven  sacraments,  purgatory  and 
the  like.  The  great  majority  of  the  English  bishops  are  op- 
posed to  the  agitation.    At  the  head  stands  Dr.  Pusey. 

The  Spanish  Revolution,  which  occurred  in  October  1868, 
was  so  devised,  and  presented  so  bold  a  front,  that  it  met 
with  but  little  opposition,  and  in  a  few  months  substituted  a 
Provisional  Government  for  the  detested  Bourbon  dynasty. 
A  glance  at  the  loss  of  Catholicism  in  popular  sentiment, 
however,  will  show  that  the  general  revolt  against  civil  and 
ecclesiastical  oppression  was  not  the  work  of  a  day,  but  was 
prepared  by  the  loss  of  popular  sentiment  which  Catholicism 
has  sustained  in  the  kingdom  during  the  greater  part  of  the 
present  century.   In  the  eighteenth  century  there  were  in  the 


CATHOLICISM  IN  SPAIN. 


!77 


kingdom  6000  cloisters,  and  forty  years  ago  there  were  but 
3000.  In  1855  there  was  a  great  diminution  of  church 
property,  and  the  6000  cloisters  had  dwindled  down  to  800. 
At  the  end  of  the  last  century  there  were  83,118  monks, 
66,687  lay  priests,  and  2666  inquisitorial  officers,  among  whom 
are  the  "familiars,"  or  clerical  spies;  while  in  1858  there 
were  but  6702  monks,  12,593  nuns,  and  43,661  lay  priests. 
In  1861  there  were  but  a  little  more  than  6000  inmates  of 
cloisters,  and  39,885  lay  priests.  This  numerical  diminution 
of  clerical  functionaries  betrays  unmistakably  the  gradual 
relaxation  of  the  hold  of  Catholicism  on  the  Spanish  people, 
and  reveals  the  fact,  that  the  popular  heart  had  become  firmly 
convinced  that  religious  intolerance  was  the  cause  of  the  in- 
numerable evils  of  the  country. 

The  strong  measures  of  the  Provisional  Government  against 
the  Jesuits  have  provoked  the  bitter  wrath  not  only  of  the 
ultra-Catholics  in  Spain,  but  throughout  Europe.  Yet  it  is 
an  important  fact,  that  this  rigid  course  has  been  adopted 
without  the  violation  of  a  single  Spanish  law,  and,  indeed,  is 
only  the  actual  putting  into  effect  of  laws  disregarded  by  the 
Bourbon  dynasty.  The  truth  is,  that  not  only  in  Spain,  but 
in  nearly  every  other  European  country,  Jesuitism  has  not 
been  legal  during  any  part  of  the  present  century  and  a  good 
portion  of  the  last.  By  a  law  of  the  3rd  of  September,  1759, 
the  King  of  Portugal  banished  Jesuitism  from  all  his  posses- 
sions in  Europe,  America,  Africa,  and  Asia,  and  attached  the 
penalty  of  long  imprisonment  to  any  attempts  for  its  resto- 
ration. On  the  6th  of  August,  1762,  the  Parliament  of  Paris, 
by  an  almost  unanimous  vote,  passed  a  law,  which  the  king 
carried  into  effect  in  his  "irrevocable"  decree  of  November, 
1764,  banishing  the  Jesuits  "forever"  from  all  French  terri- 
tory. On  the  3rd  of  November,  1764,  the  King  of  the  Two 
Sicilies  issued  a  similar  decree  for  his  territory.  On  the  5th 
of  February,  1768,  the  Duchy  of  Parma  adopted,  almost 
literally,  the  Neapolitan  decree.  On  the  22nd  of  April  of  the 
same  year,  the  Grand  Master  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John 
issued  a  similar  law,  terming  Jesuitism  "an  infamous  and 
blasphemous  abuse  of  the  name  of  the  world's  Redeemer." 


47S 


HISTORY  OF  THE  CHURCH. 


In  April,  1767,  Charles  III.  of  Spain  issued  the  Pragmatic 
Sanction,  excluding  the  Jesuits,  "  by  the  power  of  irrevocable 
law,"  from  that  country  and  from  all  its  foreign  possessions, 
"once  and  forever."  In  Spain  this  law  has  never  been  ab- 
rogated or  suspended,  though  under  Ferdinand  VII.  it  was 
not  carried  into  effect. 

By  a  revolution  covering  a  week,  the  road  has  now  been 
opened  for  Protestant  evangelization  among  twenty-two  millions 
of  people  (including  the  Spanish  colonies),  occupying  a  terri- 
tory of  308,279  square  miles — a  fact  almost  too  great  for 
credibility;  and  yet  no  sooner  was  the  Provisional  Government 
established  than  true  Protestants  on  the  Continent  and  in 
Great  Britain  gave  indubitable  evidence  that  they  appreciated 
the  magnitude  of  their  new  task.  The  Spanish  Evangelization 
Society,  organized  in  Edinburgh  in  1854,  has  enlarged  its 
operations;  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society  has  made 
its  appeal  for  contributions  for  the  circulation  of  the  Bible 
in  Spain,  and  has  already  met  with  a  favorable  response. 
Other  European  organizations  are  at  work  in  the  same  good 
cause,  while  the  American  Bible  Society,  the  American  and 
Foreign  Christian  Union,  the  American  Tract  Society,  and 
the  Missionary  Society  of  the  American  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  have  already  adopted  active  measures  for  Spanish 
evangelization.  Time  alone  can  tell  whether  the  new  govern- 
ment will  be  a  success.  Many  fear  that  the  Spaniards  are 
not  themselves  ripe  for  the  great  liberal  movement  of  their 
leaders,  and  that  things  may  take  a  turn  by  which  the  old 
Bourbon  dynasty  shall  be  restored,  or  at  least  by  which 
Catholic  intolerance  shall  again  be  enthroned.  For  the  present, 
at  all  events,  every  obstacle  to  missionary  labor  has  been 
removed,  and  every  evangelizing  instrumentality  employed 
cannot  fail  of  good,  whatever  be  the  future  political  condition 
of  the  country. 

From  this  sketch,  necessarily  brief,  it  will  be  seen  that  the 
greatest  difficulties  which  the  Protestant  Church  of  Europe 
has  to  encounter  in  the  most  recent  period  of  its  history, 
are  Roman  Catholicism  from  without  and  skepticism  from 
within.    That  she  will  be  able  to  combat  them  successfully, 


HOPEFUL  INDICATIONS  IN  GERMANY. 


471J 


no  one  who  is  familiar  with  her  history  can  doubt  for  a 
moment.  The  growth  of  Christian  unity  is  already  more 
rapid  than  ever  before,  and  is  constantly  on  the  increase. 
There  are  multitudes  in  the  lower  classes,  notwithstanding 
the  want  of  true  shepherds,  who  are  secretly  thirsting  for 
the  Word  of  Life,  a  fact  abundantly  illustrated  by  the  remark- 
able success  which  has  attended  the  recent  missionary  efforts 
in  Italy.  There  is  not  a  university  in  Protestant  Germany 
where  there  are  not  at  least  a  few  evangelical  professors,  who 
are  worthy  to  take  the  place  of  such  men  as  Tholuck,  Müller 
and  Dorner,  who  must  soon  cease  to  labor.  One  of  the  great 
wants  of  German  evangelical  Protestantism  is  more  earnest 
labor  among  the  masses,  who  cannot  be  won  by  the  scholarly 
books  of  professional  theologians,  but  to  whom  skepticism, 
in  a  disguised  or  outspoken  form,  is  served  up  in  the  period- 
ical popular  literature,  to  an  extent  unparalleled  in  the  present 
century.1 

Much  good  may  be  anticipated  from  the  destruction 
of  the  unnatural  alliance  between  the  church  and  state,  an 
event  which  present  indications  augur  as  not  very  remote; 
but  far  more  may  be  expected  from  the  quickening  influence 
of  God's  Spirit,  when  the  vast  theological  learning  of  the 
Continent  shall  be  sanctified,  when  the  hungering  masses  shall 
once  more  be  fed  with  the  Bread  of  Life,  when  every  orthodox 
Christian  shall  welcome  to  his  side  any  humble  worker  in 
the  same  vineyard  of  the  Lord,  and  when  confessionalism 
shall  be  regarded  a  less  important  matter  than  the  salvation 
of  souls.  Not  until  then  will  the  Church,  in  all  its  branches, 
make  that  rapid  progress  warranted  at  once  by  the  promises 
of  God  and  by  the  triumphs  illuminating  its  own  matchless 
history. 

1  The  Gartenlaube,  an  illustrated  weekly,  is  the  most  popular,  and 
one  of  the  most  skeptical,  publications  in  Germany,  and  has  a  circulation 
of  255,000  copies.  Its  articles  abound  in  materialism  and  attacks  on 
evangelizing  movements.  It  seems  to  have  a  special  prejudice  against 
the  Inner  Mission. 


INDEX 


ACHARD,  Pastor,  I.  231. 
Addison,  I.  223. 

Amnion,  C.  F.,  II.  208,  325,  348. 
Andrea,  J.  V.,  II.  35,  58. 
Anglican  Church,  II.  390  if.,  474  ff. 
Arianism,  II.  405. 
Arminianism,  II.  387. 
Arndt,  E.  M.,  I.  154;  II.  341. 
Arndt,  John,  I.  130,  137,  380  f.j 

II.  96. 
Arnold,  Stephen,  I.  21. 
Asseburg,  R.  T.,  I.  163  f. 
Assemblies  du  Desert,  I.  7. 
Assmann,  Chr.  Gottf.,  I.  154  £. 
Auberlen,  II.  474. 
Augustine,  II.  96. 
Augustus,  King  of  Saxony,  I.  411. 
Austrian  and  French  Italian  War 

of  1859,  II.  457,  459  f. 

BAADER,  Francis,  II.  441. 
Baden  Conference,  IL,  443. 
Bahrdt,  I.  317  ff.,  337,  348,  499; 

II.  263,  375. 
Baptists,  II.  474. 
Barkers,  II.  392. 

Basedow,  I.  82,  297,  300  ff.,  319, 
346,  351,  387;  II.  146  ff.,  150  f., 
156,  165,  263,  280,  375. 

Basle  Confession,  I.  259. 

Basle  Mission  School,  II.  410  f. 

Bauer,  Bruno,  II.  371. 

Beaumont,  Archb.  of  Paris,  I.  218  f. 

Benedict  XIV.,  II.  428. 

Bengel,  I.  83, 197,  254,  372  f.,  375  ff., 
426  ff.,  432,  473,  481. 

Berleburg  Bible,  I.  176,  224. 

Bernoulli,  I.  327. 

Bersier,  II.  472. 


Beust,  Count,  IT.  459  f. 

Bible,  Rationalistic  modernization 

of,  I.  317. 
Bible,  scarcity  of,  in  Prussia,  11.469  ff. 
Bilderdyk,  II.  387  ff. 
Bluntschli,  II.  469. 
Bode,  II.  15. 
Bodmer,  I.  249;  II.  278. 
Boehme,  I.  167,  172,  272,  474;  II. 

231,  290  f.,  310. 
Boeton,  Camisard  leader,  I.  16. 
Bogatzky,  I.  136  ff.,  150  ff. 
Böhler,  Peter,  I.  450  f. 
Bolingbroke,  Lord,  I.  202  ff.,  220, 

355;  II.  181. 
Boni,  Andrew,  I.  182. 
Bossuet,  II.  293. 
Brockes,  I.  244  f. 
Broglie,  I.  9  f. 
Brugglers,  I.  195  fit 
Buddeus,  I.  138. 
Bülfinger,  I.  389. 
Bürger,  II.  299,  318. 
Bürgisser,  Leo.,  I.  34. 
Bushes,  Battle  of  the,  I.  87. 
Buttlarites,  I.  165  f. 

CALAS,  John,  I.  22  ff. 

Calvin,  John,  II.  4,  11. 

Camisards,  I.  9  ff. 

Campe,  I.  82,  300,  304;  II.  146, 
151  ff.,  156,  167,  280,  375. 

Casimir,  Count,  of  "Wittenberg- 
Berleburg,  I.  166  f. 

Cavalier,  John,  I.  9  ff. 

Cavour,  Count,  II.  458. 

Celsius,  I.  208. 

Cevennes,  War  in,  I.  15  ff. 

Chalmers,  Thomas,  II.  401  f. 


482 


INDEX. 


Chardon,  Lord,  I.  25. 

Charles  VI.,  of  Germany,  I.  68. 

Chateaubriand,  II.  437. 

Christiana,  Queen,  of  Sweden,  11.293. 

Christianity  compatible  with  mod- 
ern culture,  II.  5  f. 

Church,  the  organ  of  spiritual  life, 
II.  3  f. 

Church   history,    necessity  of  a 

broad  view  of,  II.  3. 
Church,  New  Jerusalem,  1. 372, 473  ff. 
Claudius,  the  Wands  beck  Messenger, 

II.  10  f.,  15,  184  ff.,  240  ff.,  252  f., 

302,  307,  370,  421,  431. 
Claussen,  EL  388. 
Clement  IX.,  Pope,  I.  37. 
Clement  XL,  Pope,  I.  11. 
Clement  XIII.,  Pope,  II.  427  ff. 
Clement  XIV.,  Pope,  IL  427. 
Colenso,  Bishop,  II.  474. 
Collins,  I.  202. 
Comenius,  I.  302. 
Comte,  IL  472. 
Concordat,  Austrian,  IL  437. 
Copernicus,  II.  70. 
Coquerel,  Sr.,  Pastor,  II.  404,  472. 
Cöthen  Hymns,  I.  150  f.,  435. 
Court,  Anton,  I.  19  f. 
Cramer,  II,  278. 
Crusius,  I.  392,  II.  98. 

DA  COSTA,  I.  413. 

Dalberg,  IL  443. 

D'Alembert,  I.  210  ff. 

D'Annone,  I.  186  ff. 

Daub,  II.  337. 

Dauth,  Max.,  I.  164. 

De  Cock,  IL  388. 

Deism,  I.  202  ff.,  224;  IL  298. 

Deists,  I.  80,  208,  252,  288,  290, 

342,  346;  II.  244,  390. 
Denmark,  Prot.  Ch.  in,  IL  388,  471  f. 
De  Pressense,  IL  472. 
De  Stael,  Mad.,  II.  320. 
De  Subas,  I.  21. 
De  Wette,  II.  337  ff.,  411. 
Diderot,  I.  210  ff.;  IL  301. 
Dippel,  J.  C,  I.  167  ff. 
Dissenters,  English,  II.  391. 
Diterich,  I.  495;  IL  253. 
Doederlein,  II.  24. 
Doedes,  II.  472. 
Dohm,  IL  210. 
Dorner,  II.  479. 
Dort,  Doctrines  of,  II.  386. 
Dräseke,  II.  325. 


ECKERMANN,  II.  260,  271,  273. 

Edelmann,  J.  C,  I.  224  f. 

Edict,  of  Augustus,  King  of  Saxony, 

I.  411. 
Edict,  of  Nantes,  I.  7. 
Edict,  Religious,  of  Fred.  Wm.  II., 

I.  367  ff. 

Education,  reform  in,  in  Germany, 

II.  145  ff. 

Education  of  the  human  race, 
Lessing's  theory  of,  I.  290  ff. 

Eichhorn,  I.  375;  II.  24. 

Eighteenth  Century,  characteristics 
of,  I.  2  f. ;  Protestant  tendencies 
in,  5  f. 

Elizabeth,  Empress  of  Russia,  1. 415. 
Ellerites,  I.  165. 

Encyclopaedists,  French,  I.  210  ff., 
216  ff.,  222,  236;  II.  88. 

Erasmus,  I.  319;  II.  274. 

Ernesti,  I.  259  ff.;  II.  24. 

Essays  and  Reviews,  II.  474. 

Euler,  Pastor,  I.  184,  326  ff.,  346. 

European  Church,  most  recent 
history  and  present  state  of,  II. 
456  ff. 

Evangelical  Society,  II.  403. 

FEBRONIUS,  II.  442. 

Fenelon,  I.  26,  145;  II.  293. 

'Feuerbach,  II.  371. 

Fichte,  II.  10,  24,  26,  79,  193  ff., 

226,  233  f.,  242,  256,  266,  272  ff., 

288,   290,  318,  327,   329,  341, 

361,  419. 
Fichtian  Philosophy,  II.  198  ff. 
Flechier,  Bishop,  I.  10. 
Flemming,  II.  278. 
Förster,   Fr.,    historian  of  Fred. 

Wm.  L,  I.  103. 
Fouque,  Baron  la  Motte,  II.  283, 

288  ff.,  341. 
France,  religious  wars  in,  II.  132; 

Protestant  Church  in,   402  ff., 

472  ff. 

Francis  Joseph  IL,  of  Austria,  II. 

464. 

Francis  Leopold  Frederick,  Prince 

of  Dessau,  I.  303. 
Francke,  A.  H.,  I.  122,  130,  134  f., 

377;  II.  35. 
Franklin,  B.,  I.  414. 
Frederick  the  Great,  I.  68,  90  ff., 

105,  225  ff.,  264,  315,  327;  II. 

317,  431. 
Frederick  I.,  of  Prussia,  I.  108  f. 


INDEX. 


483 


Frederick  William  I.,  of  Prussia, 
I.  52  ff.,  87  ff.,  112,  124,  136, 
225  ff.,  300,  304,  357,  411. 

Frederick  William  IL,  of  Prussia, 
I.  367  ff. 

Frederick  William  III.,  of  Prussia, 

I.  88,  371;  II.  210,  350  ff.,  467. 
Frederick  William  IV.,  of  Prussia, 

II.  397  f. 
Freemasons,  II.  430. 

French  Revolution,  II.  301,  366, 

433  f.,  454. 
French  Taste,  in  Germany,  in  18th 

century,  I.  75  ff. 
Freylinghausen,  I.  134  ff.,  138,  501. 
Fries,  II.  245,  337,  339. 

GARIBALDI,  II.  458. 

Gassner,  L  495. 

Garve,  I.  495. 

Geistliche  Fama,  I.  62. 

Geliert,  I.  246,  339  ff.,  355,  501; 

II.  184,  208,  278. 
Genevan  Church,  II.  405,  407. 
Gerhard,  I.  315;  II.  53,  278. 
German  Christian  Sue,  I.  394  ff.; 

II.  172,  410. 
German  Protestant  Assoc.,  II.  468  ff. 
Gervinus,  II.  47,  278. 
Gichtel,  I.  167,  172,  474. 
Gladstone,  II.  475. 
Gleim,  I.  249. 
Gnostics,  II.  231. 

Goethe,  I.  83,  308  f.,  374;  II.  10, 
15  ff.,  20  f.,  24  f.,  28  f.,  109,  119, 
137,  145,  168,  173,  178  f.,  197, 
201,  245,  247,  253  ff.,  277,  283, 
299,  318  f.,  329,  419. 

Goetze,  I,  108,  278  ff,;  II.  15. 

Görres,  IL  447  f. 

Grotius,  I.  259. 

Gruber,  J.  A.,  I.  179. 

Grundtvig,  II.  388,  471. 

Grynäus,  I.  317. 

Guericke,  II.  352. 

Guizot,  II.  404,  472. 

Gundling,  I.  92  f. 

Günther,  J.  C,  I.  149;  IL  125. 

Gustavus  Adolphus  Assoc.,  II.  466. 

Guyon,  Mad.,  I.  145. 

HAGEDORN,  I.  245  f. 
Hagenbach,  K.  R.,  life  of,  I.  iii — vii. 
Hahn,  I.  197,  392  ff. 
Halle,  Orphan  House  at,  I.  130, 
140,  306. 
Vol.  II. — 31* 


Halle  Pietists,  I.  374,  380. 
Halle,  University  of,  I.  115  ff. 
Haller,   I.  214  f.,  326  f.,   331  ff., 

346  f.;  II.  97,  278,  296,  324. 
Hamann,  II.  10,  12  ff.,  47;  II.  173 

188  f.,  194,  240,  302,  307,  421. 
Hanstein,  II.  325. 
Harms,  Claus,  II.  345  ff.,  360,  378. 
Hase,  II.  382. 
Hange,  Nielsen,  II.  388  ff. 
Hebel,  II.  249  ff. 

Hegel,  II.  109,  273,  361  ff.,  372  ff. 

Hegelian  Philosophy,  II.  360  ff., 
372  ff.,  380,  382  f. 

Heidegger,  J.  H.,  I.  178. 

Heidelberg  Catechism,  I,  40  ff., 
113;  IL  166. 

Helvetius,  L  211  ff.,  222. 

Hemsterhuis,  II.  301. 

Herbert,  Lord,  I.  202. 

Herder,  I.  83,  360,  363,  400,  436, 
467  ff.,  504;  II.  1  ff.,  9  ff.,  81  ff., 
96,  102,  119,  130,  137,  146  ff., 
154,  166,  173,  176,  178,  197,  208, 
243,  248,  273,  278,  283,  325  f., 
358  f.,  370,  376,  419,  421. 

Hermes,  I.  369,  II.  444  ff. 

Hermesianism,  IL  444  ff. 

Hess,  Jacob,  I.  493;  IL  408  f. 

Heyne,  the  philologist,  IL  20. 

High  Church  of  England,  IL  448, 455. 

Hiller,  I.  197,  393  ff.,  501. 

Hilmer,  I.  369. 

Hirscher,  IL  450. 

History,  Schiller's  notion  of,  II. 
121  ff. 

Hobbes,  I.  202. 

Hochmann,  E.  C,  I.  167  f. 

Holbach,  I.  211  ff.,  222. 

Holland,  Prot.  Ch.  in,  IL  386  ff.,  472: 

Holstein,  Luke,  IL  293. 

Holty,  II.  299,  318. 

Holy  Alliance,  H.  342  f. 

Huber,  Mary,  I.  221  f. 

Huguenots,  I.  7  ff. 

Humboldt,  A.  v.,  IL  197. 

Hume,  I.  220,  223. 

Hurter,  J.  G.,  I.  181  f. 

Hymn  Writers,  of  15th  and  16th 
century,  1.  366. 

ICELAND,  skepticism  in,  II.  472. 
Illuminism,  in  Germany,  I.  199  ff., 

296  ff.,  346,  368  ff. ;  II.  279  f., 

327,  344,  351,  412j  430. 
Illuminists,  II.  374. 


484 


INDEX. 


Inspired,  I,  8,  176. 
Irving,  Ed.,  IL  393  ff. 
Iselin,  I.  304,  309  f.,  492. 

JABLONSKY,  I.  410,  412. 
Jacobi,  F.  H.,  II.  10,  178,  185,  192, 

235  ff.,  247  ff.,  252  ff.,  303  f., 

332,  337,  339. 
Jacobi,  J.  G.,  II.  247. 
Jacobi's  Philosophy,  II.  238  ff.,  247. 
Jansenism,  I.  223;  II.  425  ff. 
Jean  Panl,   II.  10,  21,  24  f.,  29, 

247  ff.,  251  ff. 
Jerusalem,  J.  E.  W.,  I.  347,  350  ff., 

.363,  373,  495. 
Jerusalem,  Prot.  Bishopric  of,  II. 

397  f. 

Jesuitism,  1.439;  II,  293,  425 ff.,  449. 

Jesuits,  I.  210;  II.  477  f. 

Joseph  II,  of  Austria,  I.  69  f.,  335; 

II.  431  ff.,  442,  460. 
Jumpers,  II.  392. 

Jung-Stilling,  I.  83,  139,  141  f., 
158,  168,  197,  372  f.,  483,  485  ff., 
503;  II.  15  ff.,  152,  173,  383,  431. 

Jurieu,  Peter,  I.  17. 

KANT,  II.  10,  12,  24,  26  f.,  65  ff., 
119,  129,  145  f.,  164,  176,  199, 
203  f.,  215,  220,  224,  226,  234, 
238ff.,  273,337, 339, 360f.,  364, 419. 

Kantian  Philosophy,  II.  66  ff,  83  ff., 
102,  109,  118  f.,  129,  145,  164, 
168  f.,  203  f.,  230  f.,  234,  246. 

Kaunitz,  II.  431. 

Klettenberg,  Fr.  von,  II.  260. 

Kleuker,  II.  189  ff.,  302. 

Klopstock,  I.  83,249,278,502;  11,24, 
97,  109,  129,  194,  273,  277  f.,  318. 

Knapp,  A.,  II.  134. 

Knebel,  IL  21. 

Koenig,  Samuel,  I.  179,  185. 

Körner,  II.  119,  266,  341. 

Krudener,  Mad.,  IL  406,  413  ff. 

Krummacher,  F.,  II.  378. 

LA  METTRIE,  I.  239,  336. 

Lange,  Joachim,  I.  133. 

Lange,  John  Chr.,  I.  133. 

Lange,  J.  P.,  I.  433. 

Langlade,  Abbe  F.  de,  I.  8. 

La  Porte,  I.  8  f. 

Latitudinarians,  IL  390. 

Lavater,  I.  83,  139,  197,  372  f., 
483  ff,  501  ff.;  II,  1,  96,  173, 
195  f.,  211  f.,  240,  253,  263  f., 


271,  302  f.,  307,  313  ff.,  383,408  f, 

431,  441,  449. 
Lee,  Ann,  II.  392  f. 
Leibnitz,  I.  78  f.,  85,  93;  IL  273. 
Lessing,  I.  83,  249  f.,  274  ff.,  307; 

IL  15,  109,  137,  242,  273,  297, 

364,  419. 
Lichtenberg,  IL  5  f.,  167. 
Literature,  German,  in  the  age  of 

Frederick  the  Great,  I.  244  ff. 
Löscher,  I.  109  f.,  116,  130. 
Louis  XIV.,  of  France,  I.  20,  85, 

90,  211. 
Louis  XV.,  of  France,  I.  20. 
Louis  XVI.,  of  France,  I.  32. 
Louis  XVIIL,  of  France,  I.  33. 
Louis  Philippe,  II.  437. 
Lücke,  II.  333,  441. 
Luther,  I.  173,  244,  388;  II.  4,  11, 

43,  48,  54,  56,  64,  86,  96,  182, 

273  f.,  285  f.,  302,  310,  319,  344, 

346  f.,  353,  375,  419. 
Lutheran  Church,  II.  105,  154. 
Lutz,  Samuel,  I.  191  ff. 

MAHLMANN,  II.  143. 

Mainfait,  John,  I.  189. 

Maille,  I.  16. 

Marezoll,  II.  325. 

Maria,  Countess  of  Schaumburg- 

Lippe,  II.  18  f. 
Martinsen,  II.  471. 
Melanchthon,  I.  258;  II.  34. 
Mendelssohn,  1. 307, 496, 500 ;  II.  175. 
Mennonites,  II.  386  f. 
Methodism,  I.  197,  447  ff.;  II.  380, 

391  f. 

Methodists,  I.  372,  374;  II.  474. 
Michaelis,  I.  257  f.,  273;  II.  24. 
Middle  Ages,  II.  277,  284  f.,  308  ff., 

326  f.,  343,  367,  375,  447,  463. 
Missionary  Labor  in  Italy,  II.  459. 
Missionary  Labor  in  Spain,  LT.  478. 
Möhler,  J.  N.,  II.  441,  446,  450. 
Momiers,  II.  406. 
Montesquieu,  I.  233. 
Montrevel,  I.  10. 

Moravian  Brethren,  I.  83,  397  ff.; 

II.  19,  172,  325,  380,  410. 
Moravian  Colony,  I.  414,  418  f. 
Morgan,  Thos.,  I.  202. 
Mormonism,  II.  471. 
Moser,  Justus,  I.  219  f. 
Moser,  P.  IL,  II.  112,  117. 
Mosheim,  I.  258  f.,  334;  II.  24. 
Müller,  Adam,  IL  296,  324,  448. 


INDEX. 


485 


Müller,  J.  G.,  II.  22,  47,  409. 
Müller,  John  von,  II.  295. 
Müller,  Julius,  II.  479, 
Müller,  Polycarp,  I.  443. 
Münzer,  I.  324. 

Mysticism,  II.  231,  234,  290,  294, 
301  f.,  339,  343,  375,  388. 

Mystics,  I.  141,  167,  217,  374;  II. 
191  f.,  277,  290,  369,  421. 

NAPOLEON  L,  I.  33;  IL  436 if., 456. 
Napoleon  III.,  II.  458. 
Nazarites,  II.  464. 
Need  and  Help  Books,  I.  309. 
Nelson,  John,  I.  453  f. 
Netherlands,  Eevolt  of,  II.  132. 
Newton,  Isaac,  I.  85,  326,  331. 
Nicolai,  I.  297,  304,  306  if.,  312  f., 

346,  490;  IL  178  f.,  263,  280. 
Niebuhr,  II,  47. 
Nielsen,  Rasmus,  II.  471. 
Niemeyer,  A.  H.,  IL,  108. 
Nitschmann,  D.,  I.  410,  412. 
Noailles,  Card.,  I.  439;  II.  426. 
Noltenius,  I.  99. 

Norway,  Prot.  Church  in,  II.  388  ff. 
Novalis,  II.  283  ff.,  291,  310,  312, 
318,  334  f.,  354. 

OBERLIN,  Pastor,  II.  382  f. 
Oecolampadius,  II.  4. 
Oecumenical  Council,  II.  463  ff. 
Oetinger,  I.  83,  197,  388  ff.,  481. 
Orphan  House,  at  Halle,  I.  130, 

140,  306. 
Osterwald,  I.  113  ff. 

PALATINATE,    Protestantism  in 

the,  I.  40  f. 
Pantheism,  II.  238,  244,  333  f. 
Pascal,  I.  26;  II.  293. 
Paulus,  I.  375;  II.  338. 
Pestalozzi,  I.  300;  II.  146,  154  ff., 

196,  272,  381,  419. 
Pestalozzianism,  IL  164  ff. 
Petersen,  J.  "W.,  I.  159  ff.,  164. 
Pfaff,  M.,  I.  110  f.,  410. 
Pfenninger,  I.  499. 
Philanthropin,  at  Dessau,  etc.,  I.  304. 
Philanthropinism,  II.  146,  381. 
Pietism,  I.  79,  91,  128,  130,  158  ff., 

177  ff.,  197  f.,  251  ff.,  273,  394; 

II.  35,  48,  66,  172,   294,  339, 

343,  365,  375  f.,  381,  449. 
Pietists,  I.  107,  121  ff..  141,  155  ff., 

170  f.,  172,  177  ff.,  242. 


Pius  VI.,  Pope,  II.  432. 
Pius  VII.,  Pope,  II.  437. 
Planck,  II.  24. 

Poland,  conflict  between  Catholics 
and  Protestants  in,  I.  42  ff. 

Pope,  I.  233,  245. 

Porphyry,  I.  208. 

Positivism,  French,  II.  473. 

Presbyterianism,  attempts  of,  at 
union,  II.  475  f. 

Protestantism,  II.  7  ff.,  60  ff.,  131, 
184  f.,  282,  285  f.,  293  ff.,  298, 312  f., 
316,  322,  327,  373  ff.,  380,  385, 
398,  418,  422  ff,  451  ff.,  467  ff. 

Protestantism,  antagonism  between, 
and  Catholicism,  IL  7  ff. 

Prussian  and  Austrian  "War,  of  1866, 
II.  457. 

Pusey,  II.  399  f. 

Puseyism,  II.  399. 

QUAKERS,  II.  392  f. 
Quesnel,  II.  425. 

RABENER,  I.  246  ff. 
Ramler,  IL  318. 

Rationalism,  I.  273,  366,  375;  II. 
86  ff.,  103  ff.,  110,  121  f.,  125,  129, 
145, 154,  167,  231.  234,  276,  279  ff., 
294,  334,  336,  344,  348,  359  f., 
365  ff.,  374,  387,  405,  409,  413,474. 

Rationalists,  II.  53,  61,  102,  215, 
218  f.,  231,  233,  242,  338.  370. 

Reformation,  II.  285  f.,  30*2  f.,  344. 

Reformed  Church  of  Holland,  IL 
386  ff. 

Reimarus,  I.  281;  IL  15. 
Reinbeck,  Prov.,  I.  67,  91. 
Reinhard,  Fr.  V.,  IL  96  ff.,  325, 

345,  378. 
Reinhold,  IL  199. 
Remonstrants,  II.  386  f. 
Revolution,  French,  of  July,  1830, 

I.  33. 

Ricci,  Scipio,  II.  433. 
Riggenbach,  IL  474. 
Riggenbacher,  Daniel,  I.  188  ff; 
Robespierre,  II.  434. 
Rock,  John  Fr.,  I.  165, 
Roger,  Jacob,  I.  21, 
Roland,  I.  9,  13, 
Roloff,  I.  98  f. 

Roman  Catholic  Church,  history  of 

II.  424  ff.,  457  ff. 
Romanticism,  IL  247,  276  ff.,  31 6t 

326  f.,  354,  378. 


48G 


INDEX. 


Romantic  School,  II.  245,  276  ff., 

324,  334  f.,  448. 
Rosenbach,  J.  G.,  I.  164. 
Rousseau,  I.  82,  210  ff'.,  300,  304, 

387;  IL  165. 
Rüdiger,  I.  239. 

Russia,  Protestantism  in,  II.  465  f. 
Russo-Greek  Church,  II.  465,  476. 

SACK,  A.  F.  W.,  I.  99  f.,  347,  356  ff., 

373;  II.  3r0. 
Sailer,  II.  431,  441,  445,  449. 
Saigas,  Baron,  I.  10. 
Salzburgers,  Evangelical,  I.  47  ff., 

62  ff.,  411. 
Salzmann,  I.  82,  300,  304;  IL  146, 

151  f.,  156,  167. 
Schad,  J.  C,  I.  133. 
Schaitberger,  Hymn  of,  I.  59  f. 
Scheibel,  II.  352. 

Schelling,  I.  296;  II.  24,  26,  109, 
226  ff.,  243,  245  ff.,  266,  272  f., 
334,  339,  361,  363. 

Schelling's  Philosophy,  II.  227  ff., 
234 f.,  238  £»,  246  f.,  253  f.,  327,  354. 

Schenkel,  IL  468  ff. 

Schenkendorf,  IL  341. 

Schiller,  I.  83,  214;  II.  10,  21,  24  f., 
28  f.,  109  ff.,  137  ff.,  141  f.,  145  f., 
155,  168  f.,  197,  246,  253,  258  ff., 
272  f.,  277,  283,  299,  371,  375,  419. 

Schlegel,  the  Brothers,  II.  137,  197, 
288,  296,  309  ff.,  316,  318,  324. 

Schleiermacher,  I.  445;  II.  221,  235, 
245,  318,  327  ff.,  338  f.,  348,  350 f., 
356  ff,  362,  365  f.,  368,  378,  380, 
411  f.,  419  f. 

Schmolck,  Benj.,  I.  130  ff. 

Scholastics,  IL  366. 

Schrautenbach,  I.  399  ff.,  417  f.,  422. 

Schröckh,  I.  153. 

Schulz,  Pastor,  I,  371. 

Schwab,  G.,L  383;  II.  112,115,129. 
;  Schweiger,  Hymn  of,  I.  60  f. 

Schwenkfeldians,  I.  334  f. 

Scotch  Free  Church,  IL  401  f.,  474. 

Scotch  National  Church,  II.  396, 401  f. 

Scriyer,  J.  137. 

Sebaldus  Nothanker,  II.  383. 

Semler,  I.  156  ff.,  261  ff.,  280  f., 
286,  323  f.,  377;  II.  24. 

Separatism  in  Switzerland,  1. 185  ff. 

Seven  Years'  War,  I.  334. 

Severus,  Emp.  Alex,,  I.  30. 

Shaftesbury,  I.  202;  IL  181. 

Shakers,  II.  392  f. 


Shakespeare,  II.  136  f.,  139  f. 
Silberschlag,  I.  369. 
Silesjus  Angelus,  IL  293. 
Socinianism,  I.  138;  IL  405. 
Socinians,  II.  387. 
Sommer,  II.  471. 

Sophia  Charlotte,  of  Prussia,  I.  88. 
Sophia  Dorothea,  of  Hanover,  I.  90. 
Southcott,  Joanna,  II.  393. 
Spalding,  J.  J.,  I.  347,  357  ff.,  373, 

494  f.*  IL  53. 
Spanish  Revolution  of  !  868,  II.  476  ff. 
Spangenberg,  I.  35)9,  429  f. 
Spener,  I.  80,  85,  177,  377,  380  f.; 

IL  35,  9  . 
Speyer,  J.  F.,  I.  177  f. 
Spinoza,  II.  205,  238,  243,  334  f. 
Spittler,  II.  24. 
Spreng,  J.  J.,  I.  190. 
St.  Boniface  Assoc.,  II.  466. 
St.  Francis  of  Sales,  I.  145. 
Stark,  II.  304. 

Steffens,  1. 500  f. ;  IL  352  ff.,  356, 421. 
Stehelin,  I.  245. 

Stolberg,  Count,  II.  296,  298  ff.,  312. 
Strauss,  Dav.,  I.  375;   II.  369  ff., 

376,  417. 
Sturz,  Helf.  Pet.,  II.  51. 
Supernaturalism,  IL  61,  86  ff.,  100, 

103  ff.,  336,  368. 
Supernaturalists,  II.  192,  242  f.,  338. 
Sweden,  Prot.  Church  in,  II.  388  ff. 
Swedenborg,  1.83,  197,372  f.,  472  ff. 
Swift,  I.  223. 

Switzerland,  Prot.  Church  in  French, 

II.  405  ff.,  473. 
Switzerland,  Prot.  Church  in  German, 

II,  408  ff.,  473  f. 

TELLER,  I.  347,  366  f.,  371,  499. 
Tennhart,  John,  I.  164. 
Tersteegen,  I.  141  ff.,  153,  501. 
Theology,  Protestant,  II.  4  f. 
Theophilanthropists,  II.  435. 
Thirty  Years'  War,  I.  355;  IL  132, 
454. 

Tholuck,  I.  158  f.,  359;  IL  479. 

Thomasius,  I.  85,  300. 

Thorn,  conflicts  between  Catholics 

and  Protestants  in,  I.  42  ff. 
Tieck,  IL  2S0,  318. 
Tiedge,  II.  142. 
Tindal,  W.,  I.  202. 
"Tobacco  College,"  I.  92. 
Toggenburg  War,  I.  34  ff. 
Toland,  I.  202. 


INDEX. 


487 


Toleration,  in  18th  cent.,  I.  24  ff. 
Tractarianism,  II.  399  ff. 
Trautwein,  I.  161  f. 
Tübingen  School,  I.  37.3. 
Tuclifeldt,  Chr.,  I.  165. 
Turretin,  I.  113. 

Tzschirner,  H.  G.,  II.  108,  228  ff. 

UNITED  EVANGELICAL  STATE 

CHURCH,  II.  352,  467. 
United  States,  II.  456  f. 
Universal  Exposition  of  1867,  at 

Paris,  II.  473. 
Universal  German  Library,  I.  307  f. 
Urlsperger,  I.  391  ff.;  IL  410. 
Uz,  I.  245  f.;  IL  125. 

VAN  OOSTERZEE,  IL  472. 

Varnhagen  von  Ense,  IL  321. 

Venerable  Compagnie  des  Pasteurs, 
IL  406. 

Victor  Emanuel,  IL  457  f. 

Vilmergen,  Battle  of,  I.  33  ff. 

Voltaire,  I.  24  ff.,  205  ff.,  230  ff., 
246  f.,  289,  336,  355;  II.  88  f., 
115  f.,  181,  264,  301,  317. 

Voss,  II.  299,  301  f. 

WAR,  German,  of  Liberation,  IL 

222  f.,  340  ff. 
Weigel,  I.  167. 
Weimar  Hymn  Book,  II.  54. 
Weimar,  Literary  Circle  of,  IL  21. 
Werenfels,  I.  113  f.,  443. 
Werner,  II.  296,  309,  316  ff.,  331. 
Wertheim  Bible,  I.  317. 


Wesley,  Charles,  I.  447. 
Wesley,  John,  I  197,  372  ff.,  447  ff. 
Wesley,  Samuel,  I.  447. 
Wessenberg,  II.  442  f.,  445. 
Westphalia,  Peace  of,  I.  41. 
Wettstein,  I.  254  ff.,  377. 
Whitefield,  I.  197,  451  ff.,  459  ff; 

IL  392. 
!  Wicel,  George,  IL  293. 
Wieland,  I.  83,  249;   IL  21,  109, 

197,  318. 
Wilberforce,  I.  464. 
Winckelmann,  II.  296  ff. 
Witschel,  IL  143. 
Wolf,  Christian,  I.  78,  117  ff.,  334; 

IL  273. 

Wolfenbüttel  Fragments,  I.  279  ff., 

346,  497. 
Wolfian  Philosophy,  I.  118  ff,  128  ff, 

202,  230,  380,  392;  II.  87. 
Woltersdorf,  I.  145  ff.,  369,  501. 
Woolston,  I.  202. 
Würtemberg  Hymn  Book,  I.  433. 

YOUNG  GERMANY,  II.  367  f. 

ZAHN,  I.  146  ff. 
Zelter,  IL  319. 

Zillerthal,  exiles  from  the,  I.  71  f. 
Zimmermann,  I.  113,  496. 
Zinzendorf,  I.  83,  158,   197,  224, 

372  f.,  380,  397,  399  ff,  477;  II. 

9ii,  233,  328,  437. 
Zollikofer,  I.  347,  363  ff.,  486,  495; 

II.  53,  345. 
Zwingli,  I.  244,  IL  4» 


DR.  HURST'S  GREAT  WORK  ON  RATIONALISM. 


sSbtortj  of  Eatumaltsm; 

EMBRACING  A  SURVEY  OF  THE  PRESENT  STATE  OF  PROTESTANT 
THEOLOGY,  WITH  APPENDIX  OF  LITERATURE. 

By  JOHN  T.  HURST,  D.D. 

Revised  Edition.  One  Vol.  8vo.,  $3.50. 

In  this  work  Mr.  Hurst  has  confined  himself  to  the  literary  departmen. 
and  theological  aspects  of  Rationalism ;  which,  in  spite  of  appearances  to 
the  contrary,  he  believes  has  outwitted  itself  and  is  staggering  to  its  doom. 
It  embraces,  as  the  title  imports,  a  survey  of  the  present  state  of  Protestant 
theology  throughout  Christendom — an  analysis  and  historical  sketch  of 
English,  French,  Dutch,  American,  and  German  Rationalism — an  outline 
of  the  various  schools  and  systems  of  philosophy  and  theology  which  have 
arisen  since  the  Reformation  ;  including  notices  of  the  various  men  who  have 
figured  most  conspicuously  in  the  realm  of  thought — a  survey  of  the  condi- 
tion of  the  Christian  Church  at  various  periods  and  in  different  countries, 
and  the  influence  of  deistic  and  rationalistic  thought  upon  it.  The  tone  of 
the  work  is  cheerful  and  hopeful.  The  defenders  of  the  truth  have  been 
more  numerous  and  learned  than  their  assailants  ;  human  reason  has  proved, 
under  this  scathing  fire,  unable  to  grapple  with  the  deepest  needs  of  our 
humanity.  This  able  and  scholarly  work  has  been  republished  in  England, 
and  has  already  passed  to  the  third  edition  in  this  country. 

CRITICAL  NOTICES. 

"  This  is  a  history  of  Rationalism,  written  from  the  orthodox  stand-point.  It  evinces  much 
teaming  and  discrimination  on  the  part  of  the  author,  and  is  thoroughly  fair  and  dispassion- 
ate in  tone.  In  nearly  all  cases,  the  views  of  the  men  whose  works  are  commented  upon  are 
given  in  their  own  language,  thus  rendering  it  evident  that  they  are  in  no  respect  misrepre- 
sented. It  is  much  more  compactly  and  closely  written  than  is  Lecky's  recently  published 
work  on  the  same  subject ;  and,  though  less  pretentious  in  its  style,  is  really  an  abler  book." 
—AT.  Y.  Independent. 

"  The  most  comprehensive  history  of  Rationalism  extant ;  its  tone  is  catholic  and  evangeli- 
cal, and  its  statements  in  general  trustworthy.  The  author,  a  young  minister  of  the  Method- 
ist Episcopal  Church,  who  has  spent  some  time  in  Germany,  clearly  sees  the  issue  about  to 
be  joined,  and  has  rendered  an  important  service  in  indicating  the  course  of  the  more  recent 
scepticism,  and  the  spirit  in  which  it  should  be  met.  The  work  is  a  valuable  contribution  to 
our  literature." — Theological  Eclectic. 

u  The  whole  work  does  credit  to  Mr.  Hurst's  candor  and  spirit  of  fairness.  The  work 
closes  with  a  full  bibliography  of  the  literature  of  Rationalism,  that  at  once  shows  how  wide 
has  been  the  range  of  the  investigations  of  the  author,  and  gives  the  means  of  following  him 
in  Iiis  researches  to  those  who  desire  to  examine  for  themselves." — N.  Y.  Times. 

"  Students  in  theology  and  preachers  of  the  Word,  can  find  nowhere  else,  in  so  brief  a 
compass,  a  compendium  so  useful  as  this  work  will  be  found  to  be,  to  those  who  want  a  con- 
nected view  of  the  rise,  progress,  and  present  state  of  Rationalism." — Christian  Intelli- 
gencer. 

"  These  six  hundred  pages  are  most  refreshing  and  satisfactory.  They  are  just  what  every 
minister  and  thoughtful  Christian  in  these  times  must  have  in  his  library." — Boston  Recorder. 


EDINBURGH  REVIEW.-"  The  BEST  History  of  the  Roman  Republic, 
LONDON  TIMES.— "BY  FAR  THE  BEST  History  of  the  Decline  and  Fa]' 
of  the  Roman  Commonwealth." 


NOW    READY,    VOLUME  X. 


FROM  THE  EARLIEST  TIME  TO  THE  PERIOD  OF  ITS  DECLINE. 


Translated,  with  the  author's  sanction  and  additions,  by  the  Rev.  W.  P.  Dickson,  Regius 
Professor  of  Biblical  Criticism  in  the  University  of  Glasgow,  late  Classical 
Examiner  in  the  University  of  St.  Andrews.    With  an  In- 
troduction by  Dr.  Leonhard  Schmitz. 

REPRINTED  FROM  THE  REVISED  LONDON  EDITION. 

Four  Volumes  crown  8vo.  Price  of  Volume  I.,  $2.50. 

Dr.  Mommsen  has  long  been  known  and  appreciated  through  his  researches 
into  the  languages,  laws,  and  institutions .  of  Ancient  Rome  and  Italy,  a> 
the  most  thoroughly  versed  scholar  now  living  in  these  departments  of  his- 
torical investigation.  To  a  wonderfully  exa6l  and  exhaustive  knowledge  of 
these  subjects,  he  unites  great  powers  of  generalization,  a  vigorous,  spirited, 
and  exceedingly  graphic  style  and  keen  analytical  powers,  which  give  this 
history  a  degree  of  interest  and  a  permanent  value  possessed  by  no  other 
record  of  the  decline  and  fall  of  the  Roman  Commonwealth.  "Dr. 
Mommsen's  work,"  as  Dr.  Schmitz  remarks  in  the  introduction,  "though 
the  production  of  a  man  of  most  profound  and  extensive  learning  and 
knowledge  of  the  world,  is  not  as  much  designed  for  the  professional 
scholar  as  for  intelligent  readers  of  all  classes  who  take  an  interest  in  the  his- 
tory of  by-gone  ages,  and  are  inclined  there  to  seek  information  that  may 
guide  them  safely  through  the  perplexing  mazes  of  modern  history." 


"  A  work  of  the  very  highest  merit ;  its  learning  is  exact  and  profound  ;  its  narrative  full 
Bf  genius  and  skill ;  its  descriptions  of  men  are  admirably  vivid.  We  wish  to  place  on 
record  our  opinion  that  Dr.  Mommsen's  is  by  far  the  best  history  of  the  Decline  and  Fall 
of  the  Roman  Commonwealth." — London  Times. 

"  Since  the  days  of  Niebuhr,  no  work  on  Roman  History  has  appeared  that  combines  so 
much  to  attract,  instruct,  and  charm  the  reader.  Its  style — a  rare  quality  in  a  German  au- 
thor— is  vigorous,  spirited,  and  animated.  Professor  Mommsen's  work  can  stand  a  com- 
parison with  the  noblest  productions  of  modern  history." — Dr.  Schmitz. 

"  This  is  the  best  history  of  the  Roman  Republic,  taking  the  work  on  the  whole — the 
author's  complete  mastery  of  his  subject,  the  variety  of  his  gifts  and  acquirements,  his 
graphic  power  in  the  delineation  of  national  and  individual  character,  and  the  vivid  interest 
which  he  inspires  in  every  portion  of  his  book.  He  is  without  an  equal  in  his  own  sphere." 
— Edinburgh  Review. 

"  A  book  of  deepest  interest." — Dean  Trench. 


OF  THE 


By  Dr.  THEODOR  MOMMSEN. 


CRITICAL  NOTICES. 


